The Voices Beneath
by Revalacy
Summary: It's been eight years since the battle with Cthulhu, if that is what you'd call it. In eight long years, four boys have grown up. They've become heroes. But things are about to become darker and more twisted than any of them could ever have imagined. A cult as old as ancient history will rise and they are preparing for the end of the world.
1. For Appearance's Sake

**South Park - The Voices Beneath  
**

* * *

_Author's Foreword: I've been mulling this story over for at least a year now. I had an original plot worked out that I didn't do much with since I wanted to work on other projects first, and after returning from over a year-long hiatus, noticed there was another story with a similar central plot. So, not wanting to be the one repeating what's already been done, the plot has been revamped. A lot. This story will take into account many things inside the show up to the present broadcast episode, which is "Cartman Finds Love." Anything thereafter may or may not come into play. I will also be expanding on, adding, removing, and changing certain things as I see fit._

**Disclaimer: South Park and all related characters and ideas are (c) Matt Stone and Trey Parker; other copyrighted characters and ideas are property of their respective license holders. Any original content, plot ideas, etc. are of my own work and not being used for profit. **

**The following story will contain strong language, adult themes, bad puns and copious amounts of unadulterated madness.**

**Enter at your own risk.**

* * *

******Arc 1 -MEMENTO MORI  
**

* * *

I am Mysterion. Though only seventeen years old, I dedicate my life to helping people - when I'm not in school. For years now I've been protecting my town from crime. A few years ago, something happened that even I could not fight alone. In the process of multiple drilling accidents, the oil company BP accidentally unleashed the dark lord Cthulhu. I joined forces with other superheroes in my neighborhood to help save the Gulf. But even the other heroes did not know that unlike them, I do have a power. A power they would never begin to understand. Despite my hardest efforts, the nature of my power remained a mystery, even to me. Things didn't go as planned.

They never do.

Once Cthulhu was banished back to the hell he came from, things went back to normal... sort of. The appearance of the dark deity seemed to be the push some of the less stable people of Colorado needed to step into real villainy. Suddenly, people needed real heroes, not the fake, angsty half-assed saving they got from "Captain Hindsight".

So we stepped up.

The funny thing about South Park is that even though it seems like a typical small town, it's really not. I can't even explain to you the literally insane things I've witnessed in my short lifetime. The strange things that happen here are always explained away as delusion, and dismissed just as quickly. Though there are only a few of us that answer the call, we are a collection of uniquely-powered individuals. In the public eye we're dismissed as vigilantes, psychos and even criminals. But as far as we're concerned, we're just a group of high school kids.

But now I feel that something is coming, something that will test us all. Whether or not we survive is another matter entirely.

I am the leader of a group of heroes. The town we live in is full of idiots and bigots, but we, a group of teenagers, have chosen to rise above the stupidity and intolerance. We are the watchers that protect our town, our county, and our state. We are the League of heroes.

* * *

**For Appearance's Sake**

* * *

The day started as it always did... Sort of. When the boys would look back on the morning though, they would all agree they should have seen the signs. Kenny McCormick woke much earlier than usual, rather than sleeping until the last minute as he did every school day; it was well before the sun rose. On good days, his father would still be dead asleep by the time Kenny left the house, after a night of imbibing liquor and illicit substances with his eldest son, smacking each other around a bit, and finally passing out in his filth-laden room across the hall from Kenny's. The McCormick's shabby, unkempt house was a horrible reflection of the poverty in which Kenny, along with his older brother Kevin and his younger sister Karen, were forced to live in. To many in their situation, theft and narcotics were usually the answer to the horrible life they endured. And for Kevin, this was true.

However for Kenny and Karen, they had proved defiant of what was expected of their impoverished social standing.

Unfortunately when Kenny woke that morning, both his father and brother were awake, though they would probably reserve their typical inebriated shouting for when the other two children had gone off to school. Stuart McCormick sat in their grubby kitchen at the grubby table, holding a grubby mug of what smelled like reheated stale coffee, muttering something in an almost-whisper to Kevin, who stood beside the counter holding a bowl of cereal and responding in equally-hushed murmurs, his voice muffled by the presence of food in his mouth.

Upon entering the kitchen, rubbing his dark blond head to shake away the lingering sleep, Kenny wasn't the least bit suspicious when both Stuart and Kevin suddenly went silent. He was still too tired to give a damn, and fuck, why should he? They hardly paid him any mind anyway. Kenny blinked a few times, then inhaled in a wide, unabashed yawn. "Morning."

"Mornin' Ken," his father said evenly, anxiety almost imperceptible in the end of his voice. Kevin didn't say anything, simply grunted and continued noisily chewing the crunchy cereal with feigned disinterest at his brother's sudden appearance in the kitchen. "You're up pretty early today. Goin' to school?"

Still bleary-eyed from sleep, Kenny shrugged. "Yeah I guess, what time is it?"

"5:15. You don't have school for another three hours."

Kenny rubbed his face in annoyance. What the _hell_ had woken him so early in the morning? Despite the fact that he studied his ass off (when he wasn't busy working or out doing extracurricular er... work) Kenny never seemed to mind being a little late to class, especially since it was almost always due to sleeping a little late. His nighttime work seemed to keep him out of bed until the small hours of the morning. His first hour teacher, a sweet old lady with hearing problems, never seemed to notice his tardiness. Though Kenny suspected that one of the other three boys that made up his core group of friends probably mimicked his muffled affirmation of attendance when he was late, they'd never confirmed his suspicions, and he never really cared enough to pry. Today, however, would be different. Looking back on it, Kenny wished he would have gone back to bed.

Instead he pulled open the fridge, intent on starting the day, albeit earlier than usual. The sparse contents of the refrigerator held only a few items that could safely be ingested without fear of poison, but Kenny was good at picking out what was safe to eat and drink. He pulled out a carton of orange juice and shook it. Only a glass-full if he was lucky, so rather than trying to find a clean cup to dump the orange liquid in, he instead tipped it straight into his mouth. The contents drained, he pitched the empty container in the nearest bin and shuffled back down the hall into the bathroom. It was time to get ready for the coming downpour of final exam bullshit.

South Park High was in the full swing of studies. The end of the year was upon them, and all that was left was final exams. Students spent most of their time huddled around library tables piled with notes and books, in small groups in unused classrooms, or sprawled out on floors of living rooms, looking for ways to cram one more little piece of information into their already-info-saturated brains. The end of junior year meant it was time to prepare for a life after high school, which for many, including Kenny, meant college, a job, a house, maybe a family. He hadn't planned that far ahead. Right now he was just focusing his very hardest on getting into college. That and a few _other_ things that occupied his time.

_Other_ things had taken a back seat to studying though. It was only for a week, but to him, it felt like years. Years that dragged on slower than even the most gruesome torture imaginable. And Kenny knew plenty about torture. And death. And pain.

But mostly death.

He quickly stripped down and stepped into the immediately-cold shower. The icy water blasted him wide awake, in time for the water to heat to an acceptable bathing temperature. "Fuck that was cold," he growled to no one in particular, and went about scrubbing. The last ten minutes of his shower he spent standing there, water beating down on his face, lost in thought. It was only then that he noticed his father and brother had woken _several_ hours before they normally would. And they were sitting in the kitchen, sober, in each other's company. And that they'd been holding a whispered conversation before Kenny had interrupted.

They never whispered, let alone around Kenny. _What the fuck_ had they been talking about?

By the time 6 am rolled around, he had already dressed, eaten a bite of stale toast, and made sure Karen was awake early enough to eat a proper meal and get ready for school, and completely forgotten about the conversation in the kitchen.

Karen McCormick was as close to innocent as a teenager would ever be. She was sweet, kind-hearted and honest, loyal to a fault and sharp as a tack. Kenny adored his little sister much as any sibling, or even parent, could adore. She was the guiding light, the anchor that rooted him when sometimes the pain was too much to handle. She had once called him her _Guardian Angel_ - a name he took wholly to heart. Where Kenny could sometimes be a loose cannon, Karen was the calming, gentle touch he sometimes needed.

"I'll see you after school, right Kenny?" she asked in her sweet voice. Being two years behind her older brother, they still attended the same school, but their paths rarely crossed, much to the chagrin of Kenny. Often he'd see her at lunch, but not today. She was planning to take an advanced placement test at lunch. He smiled at his little sister and cupped her shoulder. She was washed and groomed, having taken up Kenny's own habit of odd jobs for extra cash to buy her own clothes, so as to avoid being stuck in the dirty, horrible rags they were provided by some government drone who doled out crappy canned food and used clothes so he could pick up a paycheck and a tax break.

"I'll be there, Karen. Good luck on your tests today, do us proud." She grinned angelically and slipped out the front door to the honks of her ride.

_-x-0-x-_

It had been almost two years since the last time Kenny had walked to the bus stop to await the arrival of the bus with his three closest friends (Eric Cartman notwithstanding). Maybe closer to a year and a half. By the time Stan (the oldest of them by about two months) had turned sixteen, he'd already had a vehicle lined up. Granted, it was a veritable _piece of shit_, but at the time the boys were enamored with the old rusted 15-year-old beige sedan. It was a car. A car he was allowed to drive all by himself, thanks to his brand-spankin'-new (at the time) driver's license. So instead of being forced to endure a miserable bus ride, they boys could instead pile into the car, huddle around the barely working air conditioning vents (it was either way too hot or way too cold, never a happy medium) and make their way to school.

On days Kenny would sleep in, he'd sprint to school, and lately, that was often.

So finding Kenny at the bus stop, which was their their meeting place as it was a central point between all four houses, earlier than ever definitely put Kyle off.

"Dude, you're early," he said upon arriving, wearing his signature green ushanka and a bright orange hoodie, which would zip up the front if Cartman hadn't busted the zipper some months back.

Kenny greeted him with tiredness still hanging on his voice. "How'd it go last night?"

"Well enough I guess," he replied, and rubbed his face to relieve it somewhat of the sleep-laden feeling he still had. "Wish I'd have gone back to bed though. Can't even remember why I'm up this early." The concerned expression on Kyle's face gave him pause. "What?"

"Nothing it's just... well considering last night, I figured you'd want to get more sleep. We have our first three exams today, think you'll make it?"

"Stan said he's bringing coffee from work, I'll be fine with a good dose of caffe-" A wide yawn interrupted him. "Ugh... maybe two doses. I'll be good."

"Whatever you say dude."

"Hey assholes!" came the greeting of their portly in-denial-friend as he almost literally waddled to stand beside them. Kenny snorted in laughter, but stifled it quickly upon Cartman shouting, "Shut up Kenny!" Cartman was known for being "the fat one" in the group though he was in _serious_ denial over this fact, and consistently proclaimed that he was not fat, simply "big boned." To spite him on this, the other three boys would regularly respond to his greeting of "hey assholes" with a short, upbeat: _Hey, fatass._

Which Kyle immediately did. "Hey fatass. How'd last night go?" he asked with feigned innocence, hardly able to contain the smirk of satisfaction that desperately tried to spread across his face. His response was a dour glare.

"Fuck you, Kyle."

The other two boys burst into raucous laughter, but didn't press the subject any further as their ride had just pulled up. "Holy shit Kenny, you're on time today," was Stan's greeting as he rolled down the window and unlocked the doors.

Kenny replied with a smile and the finger, then climbed into the back seat after Cartman. The car squealed back into motion, and Kyle passed around the steaming cups of caffeinated bliss. Kenny didn't care that it was scalding hot, he desperately needed to wake up, so he tipped some of it into his mouth, biting back a stream of profanity that threatened to overtake the car from the pain, and instead settled to glare angrily out the window until it subsided and lose himself in thought. He was hardly paying attention to the passing trees and sidewalk, letting his thoughts meander through the previous night's events and the oddness of his dad that morning.

Despite being out until the small hours of the morning (he hadn't even gotten home until 2 am), Kenny had thoroughly enjoyed it. And apparently, so had many onlookers who'd been shopping late, a good number of them bursting into laughter and cheers throughout the entire event. It always gave him a sense of accomplishment to hear people shouting "GO MYSTERION!" without the slightest care about the people around them.

"Right Kenny?" He was violently shoved out of his own head by Cartman, who had started prodding his arm with increasing force. "Riiiight Keennyy?"

"Right what?" he demanded, his tone quite clearly irritated. Kenny observed Cartman through his mop of messy dark blond locks that nearly covered his eyes. As Karen would no doubt chide him later, he was about due for a haircut. The rotund boy hadn't changed much since their third grade year. They had all made changes to their wardrobes over time and with varying degrees of weather severity, but the truth of it was that their overall appearance was quite similar. As it was early June, Kenny had opted to don an orange hoodie of a thin material, similar to Kyle's save the shade of orange and the placement of the pockets. Conversely, Stan was the only one not wearing a jacket, having chosen instead to wear a simple black t-shirt and his signature blue cap. Cartman was wearing a light jacket constructed of a thin nylon fabric in the same shades of red and blue as his favorite old coat, wearing the same turquoise and yellow knit cap that Kenny figured he'd probably owned for at least ten years.

Cartman's face was smug. "Right this summer's gonna be great!"

"That's not what you said, fatass," Kyle said acerbically, rolling his eyes in the passenger's seat. "And even if it was, _most_ of us are going to be working all summer, unlike you."

"Nu uh! My mom got me a job at Jim's!" he protested in reference to Jim's Drug, which had once been burned down after a bizarre incident relating to Wal-Mart and the ever-idiotic Randy Marsh. "Anyway I was talking about that _other_ stuff going on this summer! God Kyle."

"Whatever."

Kenny had tuned out of their chatter again. His attention had gone somewhere else, just as before.

The car came to a stop. The four boys jumped out, and together made their way to the busy halls of South Park High. Kenny and Kyle had their first hour class together, but since it was exam week, classes were scheduled differently than usual. They'd been given Monday and Tuesday off for the purpose of studying, with Wednesday, Thursday and Friday being set for testing. Wednesday was testing for first, second and third periods. Kenny had first and second with Kyle, and both Kyle and Stan in third. Cartman, conversely, had first with Stan, and second and third on his own.

The boys made their way to their lockers, which were grouped together since they all had their homeroom together during seventh period. Kenny tipped the books in his backpack into the bottom of his locker and pulled out his note card and class notebook.

"You guys ready for exams?" Stan asked upon passing Kenny what was left of his coffee, which Kenny took gratefully and swallowed quickly.

"I _guess_ so," Cartman said, his voice annoyed. Kenny rolled his eyes and snapped his locker door closed.

"See you at lunch," he said, and made his way with Kyle down the stairs to the basement, where their first hour class was held.

There were no windows in the classroom, and the walls were adorned with really bad motivational posters mostly featuring animals in ties, or sitting at desks looking annoyed at their captions. The two boys made their way to the row of desks farthest from the door and sat about midway up from the back of the room, where they dumped their respective items and took their seats. A few others had already made their way to the room, despite having another ten minutes before the exam actually started.

"Hey guys, how'd last night go? Sorry I missed it," said the ever-intellectual voice of Stan's long time girlfriend Wendy, who finished her sentence with a sly smile.

Kenny's sheepish smile was answer enough, and she chuckled knowingly.

"It's okay, I missed it too. I got sidetracked by a problem downtown," Kyle said remorsefully. "But from what I heard from Stan, it was funny as hell."

"It was," chimed in another voice, belonging to the only male black student at South Park High. "I thought it was gonna end up with a lot of property damage but it really didn't. Actually, it went really smoothly on our end."

Kenny opened his mouth to give affirmation of Token's statement but they were joined by another student, Wendy's friend Bebe, who sat down beside the black-haired class president. "What're you guys talking about, that fight last night with Mysterion and the Coon?" she asked excitedly. Bebe had always been a huge Mysterion fanatic, and not because of his tall-dark-and-mysterious persona (which was only part of it). She genuinely thought he was the most badass thing she'd ever seen.

"Er... yeah, you caught it?" Kyle replied evenly, almost hesitantly. Kenny didn't seem to notice, he'd pressed his forehead to his desk in an attempt at waking himself up against the cold wood.

"Of course! Most people near the mall did. The Coon got his ass kicked as usual. No one I've talked to really knows what they were fighting about though."

"Probably the Coon trying to pull off something fucking stupid," echoed Kenny's muffled voice against the desk. It was entirely true, as far as he was concerned. His words were met with a collective giggle and the voices of several others that had started to pile into the room for the exam.

It was widely known that Mysterion, the town's watchful hero for the last eight years, was not on good terms with the Coon. Though the over-sized rodent claimed to be a hero and fighting for justice and "the American way" he often found himself at odds with his former team, since renamed from their first title back in the days of working out of the Coon's basement. The team, after adopting a name suggested by one of their founding members early on, had also relocated out of the Coon's basement to a less conspicuous location on the outskirts of town, away from prying eyes and ears.

The warning bell went off, sending Kenny almost out of his skin with the shock. _Shit, I don't need to die of a heart attack and fail this exam_ he thought bitterly to himself, then shook his head quickly to keep the exhaustion at bay. Most of the desks were filled now, their occupants chatting away idly before the final bell rang and exams would start.

"Good luck guys!" Wendy whispered to the group encouragingly just as the bell went off again, signaling that classes were now in session.

_-x-0-x-_

"Ugh, thank fuck for lunch time," Kyle said as he and Kenny strode together to their lockers to drop off their books, having just completed their second exam for the day. He was rubbing his temples.

"Remind me to fucking sleep tonight," Kenny grumbled miserably. "I need more caffeine or I'm not gonna make it past lunch without passing out."

"I think I've got a Redbull stashed in Stan's locker, that should help." Even though the boys were always a four-man group, Kyle and Stan were always the closest friends. It was commonplace for them to keep stuff in one another's locker, and even when Kenny or Cartman were around, they were still the closest to being paired off. And even with Cartman around, Kenny sometimes felt like the odd man out. It wasn't often though, as the two had expressed their enjoyment at his company many times over.

Sure enough, as soon as Stan approached, he withdrew the blue and silver can from the depths of the locker and tossed it gingerly to Kenny, who held it like precious water in a desert. "Thank fucking God."

Stan chuckled and dumped his bag into the locker, then snapped it closed.

"Dude this sucks, we still have another test left before we can go home." Cartman had joined them as they made their way trudgingly to the lunch room, Kenny leaning on Stan's shoulder so he wouldn't run into something (or someone) in his zombie state. The other three mumbled their agreement. As soon as they got to the table, he popped open the can with a satisfying hiss and poured half the liquid down his throat.

"You look like shit, Kenny."

He raised the can as if to toast those words. "I didn't see you out there last night," Kenny replied, and took another gulp.

"Me, Stan and Kyle had other shit to worry about." Clyde's voice was nasally, but not quite so much as Craig's, who sat beside him carrying his tray.

"What other shit?" Craig asked while busying himself with opening the can of coke he'd brought with him.

"Studying, like we'd have time to go to the fucking mall," Clyde replied. "I heard it was good though. The fight I mean, not the mall."

"Well not as good as when that psycho from a few months ago was holding people hostage, but it was more entertaining than the actual mall," Kenny said, then quickly added, "I caught some of it on the news when I was leaving the house this morning."

The conversation took a decidedly less interesting turn as the boys at the table began discussing their various summer plans. Their last summer, the summer before senior year, was by some accounts supposed to be some great, last-run adventure before they started their final year of high school and then separated for jobs or college. Kenny had stopped listening, opting instead to rest his head on his arms against the cool, flat surface of the lunch table. The voices blurred together and made him dizzy, so he stopped paying attention altogether and let his mind wander yet again.

Female voices had joined the chorus of noise around him. Probably Wendy and some of her friends had decided to forsake their usual all-girls table to join the boys and sit beside their respective boyfriends. Unlike several of the other boys, Kenny was very much single, though very sexually active with many of the less inhibited girls of South Park High. And right now, he didn't really have the time to maintain a proper girlfriend. Aside from his actual job working at a nearby paper mill, the odd construction jobs he picked up, and his moonlight activities, there really wasn't time.

His thoughts were interrupted once again as the thick slap of paper hitting wood jolted him upright, suddenly very wide awake from the adrenal response. "What the fuck-" he started but was cut off by the dark-haired, dark eyed smirk of the culprit. "Don't do that, damn it, you almost gave me a heart attack," Kenny grumbled.

"Look who made the front page!" Wendy Testaburger said in an upbeat tone, and slid into a seat beside Stan, who snaked his arm around her. "'_Onlookers were entertained last night by a battle of wits and mettle, provided by South Park's ever-watchful hero and his furry nemesis_,'" she read from the front page, which sported a blurry shot of the pair in question. She had put an added emphasis on 'furry' which only provoked a giggle to go around the table. She read on, "'_Witnesses report seeing the pair engaging in combat on the roof of the mall, where villain the Coon was seen attempting to set off several tons of explosives. His plan was thwarted when a counter attack sent the hefty evil-doer crashing through the glass dome, where he made his escape._'" The table erupted with laughter, save Cartman who looked steamed.

"They have it backwards!" he grumped and shoved half a cheeseburger into his mouth. "Fa Coon waf tryeen ta rid da wurld off evil mallsh-"

"Don't talk with food in your mouth," Kenny said, propping his head up with arm, elbow rested against the table.

"Fuck yew, Keeny," the rotund loudmouth replied and was silent.

Clyde was snickering. "How'd he get that many explosives?" he asked, glancing sideways at Craig, who hardly seemed to care. He shrugged, and busied himself with more pressing matters, like the pizza on his tray. The conversation took another turn after Bebe asked if Wendy was planning on coming over to study that night.

The rest of their lunch hour passed with little significant interest. Plans were made for study groups, which ended with Wendy, Bebe, Stan, Craig and Clyde meeting up at the coffee shop Stan worked at to study together (since Stan got a discount); Token, Kenny, Kyle, Cartman, Heidi, Jessie, and Lola going off to Token's parents' house; and Butters, Tweek, Jimmy, Timmy and a group of giggling girls heading over to the library. After making their plans the mass of junior students separated to make their way to their last exam of the day. Kyle and Kenny had finished English and Math, with their third period class being chemistry, which they also shared with Stan. The three boys made their way up to the second floor, where they crowded into the already-buzzing science room which retained the perpetual stench of what smelled like a mix between formaldehyde and battery acid. They'd hated it to start, but over the year the students had grown used to it, and the eccentric teacher responsible for it.

The boys sat around the table they shared with Craig, who looked as disinterested as usual, and unloaded note paper and pencils. "You guys ready?" Stan asked apprehensively with a quick look around the room.

"I guess," Craig replied with a shrug.

"Damn I hope so, my mom's been drilling my ass for a week about this fucking class," Kyle muttered. Kyle's mom was what one might call a bit fanatical. Though she cared deeply for both her sons, she had a tendency to take things a little overboard. Kenny remembered first hand the events of their third grade year when a foul-mouthed movie had, with her instigation, brought about the rise of Hell to earth. He remembered it quite vividly as the very first time he'd died thanks to the incompetent doctors attending him. He'd spent some time in both Heaven and Hell on that occasion, only for his begrudged curse to kick in and send him straight back to his bed.

No one, of course, remembered much of the event, except for the bit regarding Satan and Saddam Hussein.

Kenny smirked at Kyle's rueful remark. "You'll probably get higher marks than the rest of us anyway," he said.

The warning bell rang, drawing the boys' attention to the front of the room, where their teacher had begun scribbling something on the white board with a bright blue expo marker. The last few students trickled in as the final bell rang and the man turned, his wild gray hair bobbing as he did. "Alright guys, finals time!" he said brightly. "I'm going to pass your tests around. You have an hour and a half to complete your exam, and you may use _one_ sheet, front and back, of notes, as you should recall from last week. No sharing, no peaking, no whispering, no talking! When you're finished, bring your test to me and you may leave." The exams went around the room, and in a flurry of paper, the test had begun.

Without moving his eyes away from the exam sheet, Kenny began to mark rapidly. Apparently the few studies sessions he'd been able to cram in were paying off, as the answers flashed into his head with only minimal forced recollection.

He came to the middle of the second page of the ten-page packet and read the question.

_If you die so often, how are you still alive?_

He shook his head and reread it. _If you are able to divide x by..._

He stared at it like it was some sneaky opponent. _Fuck I need to sleep,_ he thought to himself, and went through the rest of the exam. Kyle, as usual, was the first to finish, and made his way to the front with the thick packet, which he gingerly placed on the desk and returned to pack up his stuff. "I'll meet you guys in the usual spot," he whispered practically inaudibly and made his way out of the room. Stan finished shortly after, followed closely by Kenny, who dropped their tests, packed up, and left the room together.

"I'm fucked in the head today, I started seeing shit when I was taking that test," Kenny remarked as they rounded the corner to their lockers.

"Well I can take over with Stan tonight for patrol if you wanna get some rest, dude," Kyle said as they approached him. "I don't think we'll need all night to study, and if something comes up we can handle it. We can call in Clyde and Token if we need backup."

"Yeah dude, rest for a change," Stan supplied. The three fell into silence as Cartman rounded the corner.

"What?" he asked defensively, looking at them like he'd caught them talking about him behind his back.

"Nothing."

"Don't 'nothing' me, Kyle! What were you talking about?"

"Chill Cartman, we were just telling Kenny to get some rest tonight." Stan always played the mediator. Rarely would his temper get the better of him, one of the best qualities Kenny thought he had. Of all the boys into moonlighting, Stan was definitely the negotiator of them, and it had proved invaluable on multiple occasions.

"Henh." Without another complaint they set off for Stan's car, piled in, and pulled out of the parking lot.

"So what time are you guys headed for studying?" Stan asked. "I'd go with you guys but I need to snag some of Wendy's notes pretty bad for tomorrow's test in History." Cartman was making kissy-faces at the back of Stan's head, which only Kenny noticed, and responded with a playful punch to the arm. The pair snorted with laughter.

"It's cool. I was figuring whenever Kenny got done at the mill," Kyle said and rolled his green eyes at the pair in the back seat.

"Well you're in luck, 'cause the mill is closed today," Kenny said brightly. "Something about a beaver getting stuck in the pulp machine blah blah."

Cartman snickered, which earned him a joking smack upside the head from Kenny. "'Ay!"

"Oh well in that case, let's head straight over to Token's place."

"Whenever you guys finish up text me so me and Kyle can get started tonight."

"Started on what? Nothin's gonna happen tonight," Cartman muttered ruefully. Kenny choked down a laugh. "What's so funny, Kenny?"

"Nothing, I was surprised actually that _the Coon_ got away with as little damage as he did."

"Well rest easy, evil-doers, the Coon won't be doing any justice tonight. I got stuff to do."

The other three boys chortled quietly to themselves. "You know you're not the only one we worry about. We have to patrol every night."

Years had passed since the day the Coon had been expelled from the moonlighters' group. To be more specific, it had been four years since the Coon had been kicked out of South Park's resident super hero league by its leader, the one known around town as the ever-vigilant hero: Mysterion. It had happened a fair few times, the Coon falling out with the other members of what people had come to know simply as the League of Heroes, formerly the Extreme Avenger League and before _that_ was known as Coon and Friends. The remaining members had all agreed unanimously to separate the Coon after an extremely embarrassing and public showdown that had ended in Mysterion's death (though no one remembered) and resulted in an immense amount of property damage.

Of course, not wanting to risk suspicion or revealing their true identities by _way_ of suspicion, everyone continued to maintain the appearance of friendship. And everyone agreed on the point: work is work. Separate what happens with the mask on from what happens with the mask off. And for the most part, it worked. Only a few occasions had someone slipped up, or been caught out.

In all three of those occasions, it ended in someone being inducted into the League.

The boys pulled up to Token's house, where the three passengers unloaded their book-laden backpacks and set off to start up the Blacks' front walk.

"Oh hey!" Stan called after them. "Kenny, I just remembered something!"

"What?"

"Before you head home make sure you have Token give you the new code!"

Kenny nodded and waved him off, then caught up with the other two boys as they made their way to the door and knocked. A few minutes passed before the door swung open, revealing the lovely smiling face of Lola. "Hey guys, you're earlier than we thought you'd be," she said and moved to allow them entrance. "Token and Heidi are in the kitchen, Jessie and Kal should be here soon." They shuffled into the Blacks' lavish living room and tossed down heavy bags, then moved to join the two in the kitchen, followed by Lola.

"Oh hey, you guys are early," Token said and tossed Cartman and Kyle a cold soda, then pointed to the brewing coffee station for Kenny, who smiled at him gratefully. A pot had already been brewed, and it smelled like a strong, dark roast. He took an aromatic inhale and poured a mug, then made his way to the large, round, dark-granite table where the others had already made themselves comfortable.

"Okay, so we've all got history tomorrow. Which tests do you guys have left?" Token asked generally around the table.

"Well," Lola started, "I still have English and math, but not until Friday. Tomorrow I've got history, chem and Latin."

"Oh, you can use my notes," Kyle said, popping the tab on the coke and taking a few swallows. "Me and Kenny had English and chem today."

"That'd be awesome," she said, her deep brown eyes falling on Kyle's own green ones. Kenny noticed his friend's cheeks tinge red for the briefest instant, and smirked into his coffee, though only Token seemed to notice this and laughed quietly to himself. Kyle rarely dated, and when he did, it wasn't often for long. Despite his apparent charm (every time he complained about his inability to date a decent girl Stan and Kenny would chuckle while listening to Kyle rant on about all his good qualities) he seemed to have the hardest time pinning down a girlfriend. But Lola was nice enough. Maybe if they hit it off, Kyle wouldn't complain so much, Kenny bemused to himself.

Kenny's taste in girls was a far cry from the girls he actually hooked up with. Where most, if not all the girls in his own year were beautiful, intelligent and headstrong (all of which he found _extremely_ attractive), the girls he tended to get saddled with were of the "reveal more skin and you'll get whatever you want" school of thought; they were often a grade below him, as being a belligerent slut was apparently a trend for the current Sophomores. And while his interest in most girls was purely sexual, and not really anything more long-term than a few one-night romps and some making out on the side, he still couldn't help but admit how much he loved smart girls. He hoped when things quieted down, he'd eventually have one._  
_

He was snapped out of his apparent trance once again by a gentle nudge from Kyle's elbow, who leaned close to whisper, "Dude, what's up with Heidi?"

Kenny blinked and glanced up to see what exactly Kyle meant, and immediately noticed something was off. For one thing, she was staring at Cartman. She was staring at _Cartman,_ like a piece of meat. Heidi had always expressed her dislike of Eric Cartman, much the same as any other girl ever, save Wendy who'd kissed him once (which she'd waved off as preteen hormones and nothing else), and had later beat the shit out of him. So the eerie way Heidi was fixed on him made Kenny a little uncomfortable. He arched an eyebrow and glanced sideways at Kyle, and leaned over to whisper back, "Fuck if I know, she was fine at lunch."

The staring persisted even after Cartman noticed. His eyes met hers, and he blinked a few times. While the others were discussing what had been on the tests they'd had so far, Cartman snapped his fingers in front of Heidi's face to elicit a reaction. He got none. "Whutcher' problem?" he hissed, furrowing his brow in confusion. She didn't say anything.

"Hey Heidi, when we're done wanna head to the mall?" Kal asked her, and also got no response. "Er... Heidi?"

At last she pulled her eyes away from a now-disturbed Eric Cartman. "Hm? Sorry I was spacing out."

"Oh, me and Jessie just wanted to know if you're coming with us to the mall after this." The two girls glanced at one another in mixed confusion and concern, but Heidi smiled.

"Yeah that'd be great. So which test were we discussing?"

Kenny glanced sideways at Cartman, who still looked immensely perturbed. _The fuck?_ he mouthed to Kenny, who shrugged. There was no real reason to look into it further though. Not at the moment, anyway.

_-x-0-x-_

It was nearly 6 pm by the time they closed their books for the night. Kenny had dozed off four times, which Kyle informed him that he'd been counting. Kenny waved him off. "I'll sleep tonight, _mother_ I promise."

"Kyle's a Jew, not an ashy corpse," Cartman said, trying to sound defensive, but this only earned him the ire of both boys.

"What the fuck, Cartman?" Kenny growled.

"Not cool, dude," Kyle chastised.

"What? I was trying to _stick up_ for-"

"Just shut up."

Lola giggled, catching Kyle's attention. His face flashed red again and Kenny started to laugh, which was only interrupted by a massive yawn, wide enough for Kyle to shove a crumpled up piece of paper into his mouth.

"FFK MMF!" his muffled voice sounded.

"Fuck you too, bro," Kyle snickered as Kenny withdrew the paper from his mouth. "That's the new code, don't lose it. I had Token write it down while you were off in dreamland again."

"Thanks."

Cartman had started off down the walk. He only lived a block away from Token, but had demanded his mother give him a ride anyway, and her car was idling beside the curb. "See you assholes tomorrow."

"Later fatass," Kyle and Kenny said together.

"I think I'll jog home, I could use the fresh air," Kenny said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Kyle nodded, and glanced sideways at Lola. "So... I could... uh... walk you home if you want," he offered, and his voice cracked once. This elicited another giggle from the slender girl.

"Sure, I don't live too far away from you anyway," she replied, and the pair trotted off down towards the sidewalk. "See you guys tomorrow!" she called over her shoulder.

"Don't forget to text Stan!" Kenny called. Kyle flashed him a thumbs up and vanished off down the street. Kenny set off in the opposite direction, his pace picking up to a jog. Behind him he heard the slamming of car doors as the three girls piled into Jessie's new sedan and set off down the road.

Jessie had definitely grown into her beauty. She'd been lovely and sweet as any girl he'd ever met all through grade school and even middle school. While she could have definitely fallen in with Bebe's gang and gone straight into cheer leading, she'd opted to go the route of the athlete whenever she wasn't covered in paint. She'd grown to be an incredible artist. Her long hair was like pale gold, which she often had tied up in a ponytail, or a messy bun. Sometimes Kenny could imagine what it might feel like to run his fingers through that hair, or fix his eyes on her blue-grey ones...

"Fuck I'm turning into a chick," he growled, and slowed to a walk as he approached the disheveled hole that was their house. He pushed open the door cautiously and peered in. Stuart was home. It looked like he'd chosen to get drunk and pass out on the couch, instead of doing the same at a bar or the back of a friend's car. Kevin was nowhere to be seen but the stench of stale pot smoke gave Kenny the impression that he was probably locked in his room. He closed the door gingerly behind him and headed for the hallway and his room to drop his books. "Did you eat?" he called to Karen, who'd come out of her room as he rounded the hall corner.

"Yeah, I ate dinner at Leslie's house," she replied. "Kenny you look awful, did you sleep last night?"

"A little, it's alright I'm gonna sleep pretty soon."

"And you need a haircut."

He grinned sheepishly and she put her hands on her hips, staring him down determinedly. She was growing up fast. Kenny loved his little sister, and couldn't help the protective feeling in his gut. "I know kiddo, don't worry about it. I'll let you cut it this weekend, okay?"

She pursed her lips. "Fine. But you also have to let me sing for you. I found some of mom's old songs I wanna sing."

"Lemme get into bed first, you'll probably sing me right off to sleep." He hadn't said it as an insult, either. Karen's voice was almost angelic, it had a quality about it that made one feel like they were floating. She could sing a colicky infant straight to sleep in minutes if she wanted to. She beamed at him and rushed to her room to grab the sheet music, and once he'd fallen down on his old bed, she returned and sat beside him, her back resting against the wall beside the window.

"_Hush child, the darkness will rise from the deep..._" she began to sing. The notes hovered over the air and floated around him. "_...and carry you down into sleep,__ Child, the darkness will rise from the deep..._"

His eyelids felt heavy. He'd begun to drift away already.

"_...and carry you down into sleep._"

_-x-0-x-_

"BUZZZZ!"

Kenny sat bolt upright in his bed. Had he died again? No... no that couldn't be it, he distinctly remembered actually falling asleep.

"BUZZZZ!" the noise went off again, and he reached for the bedside table. His phone was going off. He had four missed calls and five texts. But it wasn't his personal cell that was buzzing.

_Dude code red, get on the wire._ -Kyle

_I tried to call you, need you to suit up._ -Stan

_TURN ON YOUR WIRE_ - Ike

_Code Red, everyone make contact_ - _Sentinel_ (actually sent from base, he noticed, making it all the more pressing)

_Possible code red, need all members to check in - _Timmy

He swallowed hard. What the hell had caused so much sudden panic? He flung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself to his feet, then pulled open his bedside table and withdrew the earpiece, which he fitted to his ear and tapped on. "What's going on?" Even though he wasn't yet suited up, the voice that left Kenny's mouth was Mysterion's.

"What took you so fucking long?" was the first voice to respond. He could hear shouts in the background. The voice belonged to the Human Kite.

"I told you guys I was gonna sleep. Give me a rundown, I'm suiting up."

"Mysterion it's Sentinel. We have a code red. We also need more code names for shit like this-"

"Cut to the chase, Sentinel."

"Right, code red. Homicide at the mall, one suspect, armed with a large carving knife."

"And you need backup because...?" Mysterion asked as he stripped rapidly down to his boxers and pulled on the tight-fitting, thick off-purple pants he wore.

"It's Heidi, dude." Toolshed had spoken up. "And not the Heidi anyone of us is used to. This is waaay beyond her cheer leader stuff-"

"TOOLSHED DOWN!" StrikeForce shouted. Mysterion could only assume Toolshed had moved in time, because he could still be heard swearing vehemently.

He strapped on his boots and begun pulling the long-sleeved, formfitting shirt that accompanied the pants and grey piece he wore. The chest was emblazoned with a bright green M.

"Fuck, she nicked my neck!"

"Just be glad she did not slit joor throat! Zees is bullshit. We need to catch 'er in a trap!"

Mysterion had pulled on his gloves and strapped on his belt. The half-mask was pulled on next and covered half of his face. The cloak came on last, which he pulled over himself and drew up the hood. Finally fully-geared, Mysterion pulled open his window and slipped out like a shadow and melted into the night.

"Run me through it, what happened?"

"About ten minutes ago a mall officer was murdered after approaching Heidi Turner," Toolshed replied, though with some effort. "She was walking around in circles below the busted glass dome you and the Coon shattered a few nights back. She pulled a knife on him and cut his throat. Me and Kite happened to be right here when it happened so we tried to get people out of the way. She attacked the girls she was with." Mysterion felt his stomach flip. _Jessie and Kal_. "They're both alive but injured. I dunno where she pulled this out but she's fucking _fast_."

"Not as fast as me," Mysterion growled.

He sprinted along the sidewalk, his cape billowing behind him. As soon as he rounded the corner to main street he climbed up the drain pipe of the nearest building and leaped from the roof to the next one, rolling into another sprint and repeating, over and over, flying over top of the pedestrians walking in the streets below. Most of them didn't notice, but a few would look up and call out, "It's Mysterion!" He didn't stop. He kept sprinting ahead, the shattered glass and wire frame of the dome over the mall coming into view.

He scaled another building, this one taller, and a dead-run brought him sailing off the roof, landing on the roof of the mall. He only winced slightly as he impacted, having grown accustomed to the long drops and landings over his years of doing it, having died because of it many times. "I'm here," he said and dove between the steel framing and rolling to a safe landing.

"Thank fuck."

The scene that greeted Mysterion was shocking, even for him. There was blood _everywhere_. By his count there were 13 bodies, and if Heidi was allowed to keep going, the number was going to get higher. They were strewn about and had landed in unceremonious heaps where they'd fallen. Most of them had been stabbed with a killing blow, but he could tell some of them had taken a few minutes to finally die. He knew first hand what kind of hellish agony that was. Heidi herself was still in active motion. She was moving in a way that almost looked like she was _dancing_, but it was the most terrible, unholy dance he'd ever seen. Not to say that it was bad. In any other circumstances, it might have been entertaining to watch. But right now, the way she drifted about, blood dripping from the red-painted carving knife, it was simply terrifying. But Mysterion didn't feel fear. And Heidi had set her sights on two girls a few yards off, who were crouching behind one of the wooden benches. One of them was bleeding heavily.

"Fuck." He sprang into action. When Mysterion moved, it was rapid, almost phantom-like. His speed had increased so much since his days as an elementary school hero. His muscles were finely-tuned and despite his exhaustion, they were pumped with adrenaline. He flashed past Human Kite and Toolshed, who were catching their breath. Heidi was spinning like a ballerina. The two girls had bolted out from behind the bench as she smashed through it... wait, _smashed_? What the hell?

"Run Kal!" one of the girls shouted to the other. There were splatters of blood caking her pale golden hair, but it was unmistakeable: that was Jessie. She'd stopped and turned on her heel, and thrown her arms out defensively to stop Heidi from passing. But her act as a human shield wasn't going to last long, and Heidi was bearing down with the knife. Without a second thought Mysterion was there.

"StrikeForce, get that one out of here!" Mysterion ordered, jerking his head towards the profusely bleeding Kal. She did as ordered and surged around Heidi and scooped the girl up. StrikeForce had incredible strength, greater than any woman he'd ever met, but there was no time to marvel that. He reached out and grabbed Jessie by her forearm and yanked her out of the way as the knife came down, missing her head by an inch at most. "You're gonna get yourself killed!" he growled, and pushed her behind him protectively. Heidi was there once again, bringing the knife down.

He caught sight of her eyes. Her hollow, black eyes. Heidi's eyes weren't black, they were amber. They were _supposed _to be amber. Something was very wrong. She swiped at him, but he'd caught her wrist, effectively stopping the movement of the knife. She spun back, reaching behind her with her free hand and taking the knife.

Mysterion gaped in horror as the knife sank home, embedded deep in Heidi Turner's chest.

* * *

I am familiar with death. I die more often that I would ever care to recount. I've died every single way imaginable. Even still...

I can never get used to the sight of someone else's death.

It always haunts me.


	2. Blur the Lines

**South Park - The Voices Beneath  
**

* * *

**Disclaimer: South Park and all related characters and ideas are (c) Matt Stone and Trey Parker; other copyrighted characters and ideas are property of their respective license holders. Any original content, plot ideas, etc. are of my own work and not being used for profit. **

**The following story will contain strong language, adult themes, bad puns and copious amounts of unadulterated madness.**

**Enter at your own risk.**

* * *

******Arc 1 -MEMENTO MORI  
**

* * *

My name is Kyle Broflovski. I am Jewish, I have red hair, and I have a mother, father, and adopted brother. This is about the most normal part of my life, because _nothing_ else is normal for me. Well, almost nothing else. Aside from having two close friends and attending high school, the rest of my life is pretty crazy.

For starters, I think I might be psychic. I'm not exactly sure what that means, or if it's even true, but ever since I was nine years old I've been able to do things. Things that logic can't explain. I experimented with it a little bit when I was younger but mostly I try to keep it under control. I've never told my friends about it, I still don't even think I should. But I guess I should explain what I mean. When I was nine years old, I fell off a roof. I hit my head pretty hard, and ever since then, things around me would react if I got really angry or really sad. Anger really triggers it most though. Lights shatter, doors slam, stuff falls over. Shit like that. But I guess the weirdest part about it was how _natural_ it felt after I started playing around with it. I'll never tell my friends this, but there's a reason why I've mastered flying so fast.

Apparently, besides anger and sadness, I react to fear too.

But again, I should explain. In addition to having a job working at the Park County Public Library, I have another job that I like _infinitely_ better, and that I've had since I was nine years old. I'm a superhero. My moonlight name (that's what we call it so people listening in don't really know what we're talking about) is the Human Kite, and as my name would imply, my main power ("_power_") is flight. At first I couldn't actually fly, I just had a large, blue kite strapped to my back. When we used to just _play_ superheroes, I always said that my chosen powers were flight and lasers shooting out of my eyes. Of the two of those, flight was the only feasible one. It started out as a project that I did on my down time. After the Cthulhu Gulf Incident, we all sorta decided to take our crime fighting seriously. I can't really explain what happened, but it was like this. After we were rescued from the nightmare city R'lyeh by our friend who actually _had_ super powers, the six of us who were still the main group just knew that this was it, this was our mutual calling. So we started moonlighting as superheroes.

Mysterion had the most experience with it. To be honest, the Coon had some too but no one wanted to listen to that fat bastard. Now, Kenny isn't really known as a major leader. Whenever we'd get into things, or hatch a scheme, or whatever, there was always a leader and it was _never_ Kenny. He just didn't roll like that. Kenny would follow along, or ask to tag along, but more often than not, he always vanished before it was over. At least that was how it happened for awhile. Sometimes he'd stick it out. I always had a theory that Cartman would set him up as the fall guy, like the asshole he is, but I guess I never asked. But when it comes to Mysterion... wow. He's like fucking Batman. He does a lot of that lone watchman crap, but he's an awesome leader. And I'm not just saying that because he's my friend, Mysterion really knows his shit.

But anyway I digress. It was after our first major case (job? I dunno) that I decided that I definitely _needed_ to figure out how to fly, and I couldn't keep wearing that massive thing on my back. It didn't have to be any Superman kind of flying, just getting off the ground and staying off for a good two minutes would have been _awesome_. And... I was kinda tired of being the one who got screwed in the fights because my momentum was shit. So I started working out flight ideas. The first time I tried was with an actual kite. That, I will just say, was a _horrible_ idea. I fell straight to the ground. So I studied up on aerodynamics, worked out designs like what glider suits use, stuff like that. Glider suits were a no-go since they also restricted my movement, and the fighting style I adopted needed speed and range of motion. Eventually I designed a sort of retractable prism glider that retained the general shape of a kite (sorta), but I made sure to keep my original color scheme. I hate to admit it, but I'm the smallest of my friends. I'm not technically the _shortest _(I have Clyde beat by an inch), but all the other guys have more muscle mass than me. It ended up working to my advantage.

When I'd finally built it, I did my first test run by jumping off a roof. Now, this was a stupid idea. But it helped me out in ways I can't explain. As I went plummeting to the ground, something in my head kicked in and it pushed me off the ground and sent me soaring. So yeah... I can fly. The guys were thrilled too, but I couldn't tell them how I was able to stay in the air so long. I still can't.

So besides being able to keep myself airborne for a good half hour or more, I sometimes get these... _dreams_. Not like I can see exact details, but I get premonitions. Sort of like... glimpses I guess. Anyway, the dream I had that morning should have been warning enough. Looking back, I wish I woulda spoken up about it.

* * *

**Blur The Lines**

* * *

Kyle Broflovski woke at the same time he always did, at 6:30 am sharp on Wednesday morning. He got out of bed, showered, brushed his teeth, had breakfast. The routine was as normal as it could get. That morning he sat at the table with his mother, nibbling on a muffin and reading a news article on his smart phone. Ike descended the stairs, dressed as well, and joined the pair at the table. In a stark comparison with his adopted family, Ike had almost black hair and small, dark eyes, where both his mother and brother had bright red hair and green eyes, and his father's eyes and hair were a light brown. He was several years younger than Kyle, but he was a damn _genius_. As in, he'd been put into kindergarten at the age of 3 and he still managed to get skipped up a grade. Being a twelve year-old in high school was probably pretty daunting, but somehow Ike managed it. Kyle had to admire his little brother for that. Kyle was pretty sharp himself, but sometimes, Ike made him feel a bit... well, stupid.

But Kyle wasn't really paying attention to anything else. His mind was fixed on something, something he'd seen the night before in his dreams. He could only see flashes of it, and he remembered that it had terrified him into waking... but he couldn't remember much of it. His thoughts were diverted as his mother descended on him.

"Morning everyone," Ike said as he slid into his chair at the table. "Ooh, muffins!"

"Ike did you study enough last night?" their mother inquired. She was trying to flatten Kyle's hair, much to his chagrin. He was trying, and failing, to wave her off.

"Yeah, I studied plenty."

"What about you, Kyle?"

"Yup," he said, disgruntled, and pulled on his green ushanka hat to ward his mother off.

"I wish you'd let me give you a hair cut," she bemoaned.

"Last time I had a huge bald spot. I'll ask if Bebe can do it, she doesn't usually charge me." He was of course talking about his classmate. Bebe Stevens had expressed her interest in hair from a young age. She _loved_ cutting and styling hair, almost as much as she loved shoes. Ever since she'd convinced Kyle to let her trim it the first time back in eight grade, he'd had to admit, she did a great job. A lot of other juniors went to Bebe for their trims and styling too.

"Well alright. Make sure your brother gets to school."

"Mom I can get there on my own," the youngest Broflovski protested. "I don't need him to hold my hand, and he doesn't need his little brother hanging around. I have a ride."

Kyle snickered as she swooped down on Ike and began to poke and prod as she'd done to him earlier, fussing about his hair and needing to eat more. His irritated face read_ You owe me for this_, which Kyle nodded to him in understanding and slipped quietly away, slinging his bag over his shoulder and creeping silently towards the door.

"Hold it mister, what are your plans after school?" his mother said over her shoulder, still fixed on Ike's spiky black hair.

He froze in place, hand on the door knob. _Damn it,_ he thought, _so close._ "Um I dunno yet, I'll probably study with Stan and Kenny until late tonight. We have a pretty ugly pre-calc test tomorrow."

"Well I want you home by 10 pm."

"But mom-"

"It's not summer yet, and you need to sleep before your exams tomorrow. I'll see you when you get home, bubbeleh."

"Bye mom," he groaned and slipped out the door. The first week of June was beautiful in South Park. The temperature had finally come up out of the 50's and they were at last able to shed their extra winter layers. Kyle's wardrobe hadn't changed much from childhood. He still preferred his usual color-scheme of blue jeans, an orange shirt or jacket, and his green ushanka hat. That day was no different, as he'd decided on a pair of simple blue jeans, an orange hoodie that couldn't zip up the front because that fat prick Cartman had broken it several months back, a gray t-shirt and his hat.

It was still fairly early. Instead of taking the bus every day, the boys were now allowed to drive to school. Or rather, be driven. The only one of them who was allowed to take his car to school was Stan, and that was because he'd bought it with his own money. Kyle's car was a hand-me-down old Buick that he was allowed to drive _after_ school, or during the summer months, but not to school because his parents didn't trust the other kids not to smash into it. And frankly, Kyle would agree on that point, since Cartman had done just that to one of their teachers the previous year simply because he hadn't liked her. That very same incident had caused Eric Cartman to have been banned from driving to school, much to Kyle's amusement.

But since they drove to school, they met earlier than the bus would arrive, and had decided to use the bus stop as their central meeting point. On a normal day, Kyle was the first to arrive, followed by Cartman, and lastly Kenny (if he showed up early enough), before Stan would pull up in his beat-up old sedan. So when Kyle arrived to see Kenny already there, looking like he was asleep on his feet, he was a bit surprised.

"Dude, you're early," he remarked as he came to a stop beside the exhausted Kenny. Similar to how Kyle's wardrobe hadn't changed much, Kenny's overall color-scheme hadn't either. Though he no longer wore the thick orange parka all the time, he still seemed to enjoy the color, and wore a hoodie similar to Kyle's, except that it still zipped up, and the color wasn't quite the same. While normally Kenny would now wear an orange and brown ski cap, today he'd apparently forgotten, and his messy blond hair was waving with the breeze.

His exhausted friend nodded to him tiredly in greeting.

"How'd it go last night?" Kyle asked. He was referring, of course, to the moonlight activities of the previous night. Kyle hadn't been able to be there personally. The Human Kite had been patrolling the other end of town, working a lead on the activities of a local drug ring, and his informant had insisted that they meet behind the old abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. Right after, he'd been called in by Mosquito, Iron Maiden and The Mole, who had been out patrolling and run into a robbery downtown. It seemed like every year, as the small town of South Park expanded, there was just more and more crime. Ever since the Gulf Incident, people had just started going a little nuts.

Mysterion had been the one patrolling near the mall when the Coon had attacked ("attacked" being used loosely; it was more like a half-assed threat), and he'd beaten him down pretty quickly. Toolshed and Biotic had arrived just at the end, in time to see the tail end of the fight, and after doing cleanup had filled in the others at the recap meeting over the wire. The entire gang enjoyed a good laugh over it.

"Well enough I guess," Kenny replied and rubbed his face. He was understandably tired. Kyle figured he probably hadn't even gotten home until after midnight. "Wish I'd have gone back to bed though. Can't even remember why I'm up this early." He was silent for a moment, and Kyle looked at him with a face full of concern. "What?"

"Nothing it's just... well considering last night, I figured you'd want to get more sleep. We have our first three exams today, think you'll make it?" Kyle was genuinely concerned for Kenny's health. It was a widely known fact that the McCormick family was not well off. In fact that was a huge understatement. They were really as poor as they could get without being homeless. So Kenny didn't really eat much. He'd gotten a bit better though lately, since he maintained a steady job at a paper mill on the edge of town, and his odd jobs kept him at a fairly steady cash flow, so he could afford to eat sometimes, even though Kenny would probably feed his little sister before he even thought about feeding himself.

"Stan said he's bringing coffee from work, I'll be fine with a good dose of caffe-" he trailed off as he broke into a massive yawn. Kyle snickered. "Ugh... maybe two doses. I'll be good." Kenny was of course referring to the fact that Stan's job was working mornings at a coffee shop on Main Street. Since he was one of the best employees (in that unlike most high schoolers, he didn't just skip out when he felt like it) the owners never really minded when Stan would take coffee to his friends in the morning.

"Whatever you say, dude," Kyle conceded.

"Hey assholes!" a new voice called. The voice belonged to Eric Cartman, and Kyle's eyes narrowed in distaste. Cartman wasn't exactly what he would consider a "friend"... maybe more of an unfortunate issue he had to deal with on a day-to-day basis. Aside from generally being an asshole, he was also a sociopathic, anti-Semitic, overweight narcissist. How Kenny and Stan put up with him over the years was well beyond Kyle's scope of understanding, but he guessed it had to do with being friends for appearance's sake.

"Hey fatass. How'd last night go?" Kyle responded without missing a beat.

"Fuck you, Kyle."

The other two burst into laughter, and a moment later the tell-tale hissing of Stan's car announced his arrival. "Holy shit Kenny, you're on time today," Stan said once he'd rolled down the window, which took some effort because his car was, in all honesty, a piece of shit. Kyle chortled quietly to himself, and upon opening the passenger door to get into the car, caught Kenny's reply to Stan in the form of a smile and the finger. Kyle picked up the four-cup tray and passed around the paper cups of steaming coffee, which the others seemed happy for. He faced forward in his seat again and the car squealed back into motion as Stan pulled back into the street.

"I can't wait for finals to be over," Stan said. "I swear this year just won't end."

"I can't wait for summer," Kyle added and took a sip of the coffee. It was still a bit hot, but not too much to drink. "I definitely wouldn't mind having a quiet summer. Maybe if things stay quiet, we could all take a trip to Colorado Springs for a day or two. It'd be a good road trip."

"Oh man, this summer's gonna be _awesome_," Cartman said, leaning back in his seat (with some difficulty, as his girth made it hard for him to move much in Stan's tiny car). "Hey, maybe this summer _The Coon_ will get some real justice done. I bet so, right Kenny?" He didn't answer. "Right Kenny?" he tried again, and still Kenny didn't answer, so Cartman started prodding his arm forcefully. "Riiiight Keennyy?"

Kenny glared at him. "Right what?" he asked irritably.

"Right this summer's gonna be great!"

"That's not what you said, fatass," Kyle bit back, rolling his eyes and turning to face the boys in the back seat. "And even if it was, _most_ of us are going to be working all summer, unlike _you_." It was partly true. Kyle had a job at the Park County Library, and both Kenny and Stan had their jobs for at least a year now (two in Kenny's case). And beside that, they'd probably spend the whole summer diving head-first into their _other_ jobs.

"Nu uh! My mom got me a job at Jim's! Anyway I was talking about that _other_ stuff going on this summer! God Kyle."

"Whatever."

_-x-0-x-_

"Ugh, thank fuck for lunch time," Kyle groaned as he and Kenny trudged down the hall towards their lockers. The lockers were mostly empty now, since all the students had left was to turn in their books, take their tests and enjoy the summer, so meeting up at their lockers was more a force of habit than anything else.

"Remind me to fucking sleep tonight," Kenny groaned as they walked. "I need more caffeine or I'm not gonna make it past lunch without passing out."

"I think I've got a Redbull stashed in Stan's locker, that should help," Kyle offered as they arrived at their destination. Stan appeared moments later and opened his locker, allowing Kyle to reach in and dig around for the can he wanted to find. He passed it to Kenny, who held it like a precious infant, and elicited a snicker from Stan and Kyle.

"Thank fucking god," he muttered. Stan dumped his bag in his locker and closed it and they made their way to the lunch room. Along the way they were joined by Cartman, who was complaining. Kenny was leaning heavily on Stan to avoid running into people. Kyle smiled at the pair of his friends (obviously not Cartman, since he really didn't care whether he was there at this point); they'd been so close for as long as he could remember. Preschool was probably when they'd started really hanging out. God, had it really been that long? None-the-less, they all mumbled their agreements to Cartman's complaints and entered the lunch room.

Lunch passed quickly, and so did their final exam of the day. They'd decided at lunch that they were gonna do separate study groups, and Stan had to work so Wendy and her friends were planning to study at the coffee shop. That left the others to meet up at Token's house.

Stan dropped them off and drove off after shouting to Kenny to remember to get the code from Token. Kyle had almost forgotten they'd changed the security code, and Kenny hadn't been present during that meeting. He couldn't exactly remember why. The boys were greeted at the door by Lola. She was one of Wendy's old elementary school friends and they'd only actually spoken properly a few times, aside from the occasional "hello" in the hallways. He'd asked her to a school dance once in middle school but she'd been dating Bridon Gueermo at the time.

Normally Kyle wasn't real big on school dances, or dancing of any kind to be honest. He'd only been to one since high school started, and that was because his then-girlfriend Sally Turner had begged him to go. He'd ended up having fun, but that was only because Wendy had dragged Stan and the pair had spent a good chunk of the night cracking jokes while the girls giggled and danced together.

She moved to let them pass and they made their way to the kitchen after depositing their bags in the living room, where Token and Heidi were already waiting. Beverages were passed around, and it was time to get down to business.

"Okay, so we've all got history tomorrow. Which tests do you guys have left?" Token asked the table.

"Well," Lola said, "I still have English and math, but not until Friday. Tomorrow I've got history, chem and Latin."

"Oh, you can use my notes," Kyle offered after taking a swig from the can. "Me and Kenny had English and chem today."

"That'd be awesome," she said sweetly, and they locked eyes for a brief moment. He felt his stomach flip and his heart flutter, if only just, when her warm brown eyes fixed on his green ones. She smiled and he grinned back. He could feel his face warm up. Fuck, she probably thought he was a geek for all his stupid staring. He tore his eyes away with some difficulty and glanced around the table. Jessie and Kal had just arrived.

Jessica Anderson and Kalaphie Johnson had been best friends since... well, probably as long as Kyle and Stan. Jessie was tall and slim, with pale blonde hair and gray-blue eyes. Kal, on the other hand, was a bit shorter with a curvy figure, dark curly brown hair and hazel eyes. They made their way into the kitchen, giggling about only god could fathom what, and joined the gang at the table.

"Hey guys," Jessie said brightly. The group collectively greeted the pair as they slid into their chairs. "You didn't start without us did you?"

"Nah, we're just going over what classes everyone's got," Token said. Kyle's eyes went around the table, falling on Cartman. The obtuse boy's gaze was shifting nervously from Kyle to Kenny to Token, and for good reason. Heidi was staring at him. She was staring at him in a way that gave Kyle shivers. He nudged Kenny, who snapped out of an obvious trance, and whispered, "Dude, what's up with Heidi?"

Kenny glanced over to see, and arched an eyebrow. "Fuck if I know, she was fine at lunch," he murmured in reply.

"Whutcher' problem?" Cartman hissed and snapped his fingers in front of her face.

"Hey Heidi, when we're done wanna head to the mall?" Kal asked her. The gang was apparently making post-study session plans. "Er... Heidi?"

She responded at last, dragging her eyes away from Cartman and glancing around the table. "Hm? Sorry I was spacing out."

"Oh, me and Jessie just wanted to know if you're coming with us to the mall after this."

"Yeah that'd be great. So which test were we discussing?"

_-x-0-x-_

"We'll catch you guys tomorrow then," Kenny said, standing to stretch out his muscles.

"Dude you feel asleep _four times_," Kyle informed him. "Go home and fucking sleep."

"I'll sleep tonight, _mother, _I promise."

"Kyle's a Jew, not an ashy corpse."

"What the fuck, Cartman?" Kenny growled.

"Not cool, dude," Kyle added.

"What? I was trying to _stick up_ for-"

"Just shut up."

Their banter provoked a giggle from Lola, who caught Kyle's eyes once more. His face went hot again. Kenny started to laugh, but a yawn caught him unaware, so Kyle took the opportunity to shove a crumpled sheet of paper into his friend's mouth.

"FFK MMF!"

"Fuck you too, bro." Ever since they were young, all the boys had been forced in some way or another to learn to understand muffled speech, and Kenny was the sole purpose. When they'd been toddlers, his parents had insisted on covered half his face with an over-sized orange scarf. When they'd gotten to elementary school, he wore a parka that covered his mouth in much the same fashion, such that everything he ever said was almost impossible to understand if you weren't used to it. But Kyle was. "That's the new code, don't lose it. I had Token write it down while you were off in dreamland again."

"Thanks."

"See you assholes tomorrow."

"Later fatass," the two chimed together.

"I think I'll jog home tonight," Kenny said.

Kyle only nodded, not really paying attention. His focus was on Lola. He'd caught her looking his way a few times when they'd been going over notes. His heart did a flip. Maybe this was his chance. He'd liked her for awhile now, and she always seemed to have a boyfriend, but right now she was single. Maybe now, he'd have a shot. She certainly wasn't shields up, so he steeled himself and said, "So... I could... uh... walk you home if you want." His voice cracked. _God fucking damn it,_ he thought to himself. _I just blew it. Shit! _He braced himself for a dust off.

Instead of the rejection he expected, she giggled. "Sure, I don't live too far away from you anyway. See you guys tomorrow!" she called over her shoulder.

Kenny had already started down the street, but turned to shout, "Don't forget to text Stan!" to which Kyle replied with a quick thumbs up as he and Lola trotted off down the sidewalk. Token's house fell away behind them in the slowly falling twilight.

"So... how did your exams go today?" Kyle asked after a few moments of unbearable silence.

"Pretty good I think. I got a bit stuck in business law but my essay should make up for it. How about you?"

"Good too..." He swallowed hard. Kyle was god damn _terrible_ at small talk. "Summer plans?" he managed to choke out. If his voice cracked again he was gonna kick himself.

But she laughed again. "I have a summer job lined up. My mom owns a flower shop downtown, she said I could help out and make some extra cash."

"Your mom owns Pulchra Flores?"

She nodded. "Yeah, you know it?"

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Only because it's next to the GameStop," he admitted. They shared a laugh and stopped walking, coming upon their destination.

"Well this is my stop." Awkward silence again. God damn it, why couldn't he just be smooth and carefree like Clyde or Kenny? They were great at this whole thing. He had to remind himself that neither one really had a real girlfriend, so their advice, or skills, probably wouldn't help much in this situation.

"Yup," he confirmed awkwardly. "So uh... would you uh..."

"We could go for coffee sometime." She had just jumped right in there, and he looked at her like she was a damn Goddess.

"That... wow, yeah that would be great!" he said happily, his face splitting into a relieved grin.

"Saturday?" she offered.

"Early in the day if you can, the guys wanted to do some stuff Saturday night." It was true, but he couldn't really tell her _what_ the guys wanted to do on Saturday night.

"11 o'clock okay?"

"That's great, yeah! So uh... I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"Yeah, thanks for walking me home Kyle. Good night!" She turned and strode up the walk. As soon as the door closed behind her he couldn't dig his phone out of his pocket fast enough. Stan was on his speed dial, thank God, otherwise his fumbling fingers would have never been able to send the call.

It rang twice before the tell-tale click of the call picking up and then Stan's voice. "Hey, you guys all finished?"

"Yup, and dude, you won't believe this."

"I dunno about that, there's a lot of shit around here..."

"Are you close to my house?"

"I thought you were at Token's?"

"I'll explain later, I'm about two doors down from my house."

"Yeah I see you," Stan confirmed, and hung up. There was no real point in continuing the call, since he'd be in the car in a matter of seconds anyway. The hissing sedan pulled up. "Isn't that Lola's house?" Stan asked as Kyle slid into the passenger seat. Wendy was occupying the back seat.

"Hey Wendy," Kyle greeted her and she smiled. "Yeah that's Lola's house, but dude. Dude." He paused for dramatic effect. "I got a _date_!"

"Congrats bro!" Stan laughed, and Wendy practically squealed with excitement. Normally she didn't squeal. Wendy wasn't really into the whole prissy cheer leader personality thing. She was pretty even-tempered, damn intelligent, and highly logical, a lot like Kyle.

"That's so awesome!" she said, her voice almost a squeak. Aside from being strong-willed, independent, and even-tempered, she was also extremely kind, and was thoroughly pleased every time one of her friends started dating someone she considered nice enough. Apparently that went double for Kyle and Lola.

"Are you going out on patrol with us tonight?" Kyle asked, shifting in the seat to be able to see both Stan and Wendy.

"I thought Kenny was patrolling tonight?"

"I told him to go home and go to bed. He was out last night dealing with the aftermath until like 2."

She nodded in understanding. "Ah. Well no, I have two AP tests tomorrow, I don't think I can manage to squeeze patrolling in on top of it."

"That's probably for the best," Stan said. "If you pass those AP tests you get college credit, right?"

She nodded in affirmation. They slowed to a stop, coming to the front drive of her house. "Be careful out there tonight. It's supposed to be quiet but don't be reckless. Who's on backup?"

"Christophe and Token," Stan replied. "And I think Mosquito is gonna check out some lead on the drug bust from last week."

"Alright, well I'll keep my phone on in case you need me." Of course, she wasn't referring to her personal cell. It was too great a risk to have moonlight-related discussions on a personal phone. If it got lost and someone found it, they'd all be screwed. She jumped out of the car, pulled Stan's door open, and planted a firm kiss on his lips. They muttered their usual "love you/love you too" and Wendy trotted up the front walk to her house.

"So, base first?" Kyle said, pulling out his League cell. He always worried when they spoke openly of moonlight activities. A few times people appeared during conversations and things were hard enough to cover up without having to explain what code words meant without giving anything away all the damn time. They needed better code words, that was for damn sure. But since he was confident that both he and Stan were quite alone, and no prying ears were about, he didn't bother to code his speech. Probably a bad habit to get into, though.

"Yeah, I left my gear anyway. Didn't want to try shoving it into my bag last night, too many books."

"No shit."

The rest of the drive passed uneventfully. They approached the base after being especially sure that no one was following them, Stan even going so far as to turn off the headlights so as not to draw curiosity. He pulled into the garage after Kyle had jumped out and punched in the new code into the key pad; the garage was almost completely subterranean. Token had really gone all-out on outfitting the base, Kyle had to give him props for that. Stan hopped out of the car, leaving behind their heavy bags and bringing only what they needed as they made their way into the base once they'd closed the garage door (which provided the garage itself a sort of camouflage, again to deter suspicion). Stan went first, punching the code in a second time into the key pad on the door, followed closely by Kyle. He flicked on a light. There were no windows on the ground floor, and the ones upstairs didn't allow light to escape, so they didn't need to worry about having a light or two on. Or even ten, really.

The ground floor was mostly empty anyway. They'd re-purposed an old, decrepit warehouse that had once been used by the neighboring lumber yard before a fire had put it out of business. The boys had all chipped in to fix it up, though Token had put forth more, since he had more to put forth. To the left was the staircase leading to the second floor, which they took. The floor was composed of changing rooms, a huge barracks-style sleeping room filled with bunk beds and lockers for storage, and a shower room (divided by a newly-added wall that Kenny had put in). The pair set to changing out of their street clothes as quickly as they could. Kyle only had a few hours before he was expected home, so they needed to get going and patrol so he didn't have to spend all night trying to explain why he was late to his less-than-understanding mother.

Since starting their moonlight heroing in the 4th grade, Kyle's costume had changed. The old kite had been replaced by a retractable blue prism kite that was fully capable of supporting his weight, and the weight of one other if absolutely necessary for short periods of time. It was fixed in place by a harness that clasped in the middle of his chest. He'd retained his original color-scheme and wore a similar bright blue shirt, sans the drawing of the kite, with dark gray flight pants. He spent a lot of time in the air, so he was probably more layered than any of the others. Underneath the shirt and pants was an underarmour suit of a teal color that was fitted with a hood to conceal his mass of red on top of his head. The outfit was completed by a pair of dark blue flight goggles with dark lenses and a pair of light-weight converse sneakers.

Stan's uniform, on the other hand, hadn't changed quite as much. He still wore a white t-shirt and faded blue-jeans, but he wore a vest beneath it. For some reason the idea had been suggested at one meeting a few years previous (Kyle could only vaguely remember Kenny mentioning that getting shot wasn't enjoyable, though he couldn't remember why). Across his chest was a black harness that attached to a matching black belt. Across the harness he kept pockets containing different drill bits, small tools, and extra batteries (it was amazing how fast the modified power drill ran out of juice). The belt had a loop for storing the two power drills, a large hammer, and an over-sized wrench. His ensemble was completed by a pair of work boots, sturdy steel-plated work gloves, a pair of yellow protective goggles and a half-mask underneath to add further concealment to his identity.

Dressed, they made their way together down the stairs to the other side of the ground floor, where a second staircase descended into the basement. Much unlike the second floor, the basement was a far-sight more lively, if only because there was a mass of operating computers beeping and hissing along the far wall. The basement was the meeting room. The center of the room was furnished with a large round table and about a dozen chairs, since they would sometimes have a consultant down in the base with them. The round table had been suggested by Wendy, who was fascinated by Arthurian legend, and thought of the League as a sort of "knights of the round table," which the others whole-heartedly agreed with. The far south wall was lined with computers and monitoring stations, and the north and east walls were covered in white boards, cork boards, posters, lists and an array of images. Aside from the door, the western wall was lined with training equipment, since the basement could easily be converted to a training room (there was a sliding metal door that could cover the computers if needed).

There were two heroes positioned at the computers. "Timmah!" said the first in greeting, the echo sounding from within a shell of steel.

"Hey you two, you're a bit late," the second voice said, its owner sitting at one of the large monitoring stations. Being the computer genius that he was, Sentinel was the one maintaining their databases, information, and all the surveillance, often in collaboration with Iron Maiden. That why was he'd chosen the name Sentinel. "Whatever, just make sure you get your patrol done 'fore 9:30, I don't want mom to get on our case-" Kyle cleared his throat pointedly. Inside the base, it was all business. "Right, sorry. So Mosquito is taking the west side, he's gonna follow up on that lead you got last night, Kite. Mysterion taking the night off?"

"Yeah I'm filling in."

"Works for me." Sentinel spun to face them in the chair. His costume was fairly simple. He wore a half-mask like most of the others that obscured most of his eyes and face. His black hair was spiked, probably with gel, and he wore a one-piece suit that made Kyle think of Tron. On his left ear was a high-tech head set. "So I'm gonna have you two make your rounds downtown. From all the chatter I'll wager tonight is going to be quiet. Coon has no moves planned, the drug ring is down to investigating and no word from Chaos. Probably cuz it's finals week and there's no way he could afford to not study-"

"Ahem." Toolshed cleared his throat that time.

"Sorry, right." Sentinel had a habit of rambling. "I'm uploading the patrol route to your cells. Oh and I've got something Iron Maiden and I have been working on for you guys on Saturday so make sure you bring your phones."

"Sounds good," Kyle said in his altered voice.

All of them had decided to actively alter their voices while they were on-duty. Kite's voice was deeper than his regular tone, though not as much as Mysterion, who affected almost a growl in his speech. Toolshed dropped his voice a few notes and played up a monotone. Sentinel didn't need to change his voice all that much, since if anyone ever heard him, it was over the wire and the digital transmission modified his voice enough. Iron Maiden didn't speak at all when out on patrol, since it was understood that his manner of speech was _way_ too telling. StrikeForce, being the only female on the team, simply made her voice more commanding. It seemed to do the trick. The Mole took on a similar monotone to Toolshed, though his obvious french accent made Kyle wonder how no one ever guessed his identity. The people of South Park were notoriously stupid though so that sort of explained it. Mosquito was fortunate and didn't really have to actively alter his voice. Though his regular voice was nasally, the face piece he wore increased the quality, making his voice difficult to pin. Lastly, Biotic's voice was filtered through the helmet he wore and gave him a robotic tone.

The two made their way back out of the base again. The structure wasn't too far out of town, and over the years they'd perfected a trail that avoided the major roads and put them straight in the west part of town. The sun hadn't quite gone down yet, thanks to the extended summer daylight, but it was making its way steadily towards the horizon. They had a good two hours to patrol, so they started first by swinging up Main Street. Toolshed would stick to the rooftops, with Kite staying airborne.

The thrill of flight never ceased to amaze him. To take a running leap off the edge of a building and the air carrying him straight into the sky was the greatest thing he could possibly feel. And he was planning just that. The pair scaled the side of a building with the use of Kite's grappling wire and the tethering spool.

"This looks like a good vantage point," Toolshed said, adjusting his yellow goggles. "We should swing by the mall and check out the damage. They probably haven't fixed the dome yet."

"That sounds like a good idea," Kite replied and pulled his flight goggles down. "I'm gonna go airborne for a better view. Meet you there?"

"Sounds good. Watch your height this time."

Kite grinned then, and paced to the edge of the roof. He turned and sprinted across the roof at top speed, then leaped with all the force he could muster off the edge. He slapped the release on his chest and the prism kite shot out. He grabbed the loops and jerked, _willing_ himself into an upward arc that sent him shooting up from the ground. "This never gets old!" he laughed into the wire. There was no better way than talking over the wire to keep in contact with the other league members. It had been a collaborative idea between Biotic, Sentinel and Iron Maiden that had turned into the most useful piece of equipment any of them could imagine.

He heard Toolshed's chuckle.

"Lucky," he heard StrikeForce mutter. She had probably decided to put on the wire while studying.

"You two 'aving fun?" crackled in the thick french voice of the Mole.

"Always," was Toolshed's reply, then set to work himself. Of the nine current League members, Toolshed was easily the most powerful. Powerful, in the sense, that he could bench and leg press twice his own weight and when he jumped, he could clear the gaps between buildings and then some. Aside from being into football, baseball, and track, he spent a lot of his time lifting weights and training himself. Mysterion might be the fastest, but even with all the heavy tools he carried, Toolshed could sure as hell jump.

He cleared the gap between the buildings easily and sprinted across to the edge, leaping off and rolling onto the next roof. "Wanna practice that Tarzan move we talked about?"

"I dunno dude, I haven't really calculated that out yet. That, and if you fall, you'll be a pancake."

Toolshed laughed, but conceded. "Alright, we'll try it out at base first. Still, I think it would be great."

The Tarzan move he spoke of was one he'd suggested to Human Kite months ago. They had been watching a Spiderman movie, and Stan had mentioned that he thought Spiderman was really a glorified Tarzan with more clothes on. The conversation had led into Stan wondering aloud, "Dude, think we could do that? Swing from ropes and shit?"

"Maybe," Kyle had responded. "But my rope doesn't exactly hang out of a tree or stick to a wall."

"What if you held the rope and swung someone else?"

And from there the idea had taken on a life of its own.

He was eager to try it out, but he had a feeling a slip up could be fatal.

He tugged on the right loop. The design of the kite was brilliant, he had to give himself credit. It was more compact than a hang glider, and it was easy to control once you got the hang of it. The loops on either side served as a sort of navigation, with wires that traveled to the wing flaps at the bottom. He could move right or left easily, even up or down if he was concentrating hard enough. The kite sailed off to the right, flying him over the buildings that crowded along Main Street. The mall was just off. He'd head that way after he did another good survey of the streets below.

He willed himself up, and the kite arced up. He knew what Toolshed meant about watching his height though, the farther up he went, the more difficult it was to breathe. He wasn't getting so high up that there wasn't enough oxygen, but none the less, sometimes he thought about adding a breathing apparatus to his gear.

An hour passed, and below everything was calm. "So far all clear," he said into the wire.

"We're all clear too. Looks like it's dead tonight," sounded Biotic's digital voice.

"We should 'ope so," the Mole replied.

"My informant didn't show, all dead on my end," was Mosquito's nasal response. He had probably recently come back online from his failed information exchange.

"Nothing over here, either," Toolshed said. "I'm gonna make my way over to the mall before we check in at base. Sentinel, everything good?"

A pause, and then, "Yup, all clear buddy. Police scanners are dull, no reports of thefts or suspicious activities. Really, this is about the most quiet night in ages. Maybe we could-"

"_Thank you_ Sentinel," Kite cut him off before he went off on a tangent again.

"Right, sorry. I'll see you guys when you get to base."

Kite pulled the left loop and swung into a u-turn, heading back for the mall. He spotted Toolshed making his way there in a steady jog down the alley behind the buildings. He worked his way up a nearby drain pipe and leaped to the roof of the mall, finally slowing to a trot. Kite pulled into a dive and pulled both loops, the wing flaps shifting to slow his approach. When he was at a low enough pace to land without doing so on his face, he hit the button on his chest and the kite retracted, sending its rider into a short free-fall. He rolled as soon as he hit the roof.

Toolshed clapped. "I'll give you a 9 for that landing," he joked.

Kite put on a look of mock offense. "A _nine_ for _that__? _That was a great landing!" The pair laughed together and made their way over to the dome. He let out a low whistle. "Jesus, they fuckin' _smashed_ it," he said, impressed.

"See? I wasn't exaggerating."

"Alright you win." He walked around the perimiter of the wire frame of the dome. Almost all of the glass panes had been smashed out. They were large slabs of domed glass, held in place by a thin steel framing. He almost wondered how the Coon had fit through the gaps in the frame. Movement inside the mall below caught his attention. Kal, Jessie and Heidi were there. The first two were flanking the third, trying to shake her out of a trance. "Over here!" he hissed to Toolshed, waving him to the dome. The other trotted over and peered down.

"What's going on, you think?" he murmured, dropping to a crouch.

"I dunno, I can't hear anything." But he gathered well enough. Kal had Heidi gripped by the shoulders, with Jessie standing just at her elbow. They were trying to snap Heidi out of whatever trance she fell into. Then Heidi started pacing and the two girls were forced to stand back. Even from their distance, Human Kite and Toolshed could hear Heidi muttering loudly. She was completely belligerent, nothing she said was making any logical sense.

A mall cop approached.

Kite sensed the blade before he saw it, somehow, and when Heidi's hand rose from her side gripping a carving knife, he found he wasn't all that surprised. Just afraid. "Fuck, move in! Backup to the mall!" he hissed into the wire, but it was too late. The mall cop stopped, asking if the girls needed any help, but the poor man would be punished for his interferance. The knife came up and found its mark in his throat, gliding through it like butter, and sputtering, he dropped to the ground. She twisted back, her joints moving unnaturally, and the knife came up and embedded itself in Kal's left arm. Had she not moved, it would have stuck into her heart instead.

That was more than enough for the pair of heroes on the roof to jump in and intervene. "Grab the knife!" Toolshed called, pulling out the wrench on his belt. He surged forward, catching her by the wrist, but she twisted and slipped out of his vice-like grip like it was nothing. "What the fuck...?" he started, but had to slide back as the knife spun towards him. She flipped over and kicked him square in the chest, which sent him staggering back. Kite leaped over him and gripped her by the arms. She reared back, and for a moment he thought she'd stopped, until her forehead collided with his mouth.

"Fucking ow!" he spat and released her, shoving her away before the knife could make a reappearance. When the fuck had Heidi learned to move like that? He felt his mouth bleeding but didn't have time to pay attention to it. She was bearing down on him, so he pulled a length of the wire from his belt and used it to deflect her attacks. She was god damn _fast_.

"WE NEED BACKUP NOW!" Toolshed roared. "Iron Maiden and Sentinel page Mysterion and anyone who's not on the wire. Everyone else, if you can get here, get here NOW!"

"On my way inside," Biotic confirmed. It was lucky he'd been so close.

"Shit, I'm suiting up now, be there in 2 minutes." StrikeForce's voice took on her commanding tone. She was ready for business.

"I'm just around zee corner, coming in now."

"MOVE!" Toolshed shouted, but the unaware man that had strayed too close was unable to be saved. The knife slid into his stomach and back again. The poor man fell to the ground. "God damn it! Sentinel have you alerted the cops?"

"And the paramedics. They're en-route, should be about fifteen minutes."

"WE DON'T HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES!" Kite thundered, dropping as close to the ground as he could. She'd tried to tackle him, thankfully unsuccessful. "Where the fuck is Mysterion?"

"He's not answering his pages, try calling him!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Kite spotted Biotic leap into the frey. "Tag in," he said. Biotic was armored head to foot, and for good reason. Aside from being the only black male in South park besides his father and therefore needing to cover his skin, his combat style relied heavily on defense. Really, he was more of a tank than anything, but the suit his parents had commissioned for him had saved someone's life on more than one occasion. He was kinda like Iron Man, except he couldn't fly or shoot lasers out of his suit. The stab that was meant to strike another victim glanced off his forearm harmlessly and she danced back. "Dude what the hell is wrong with her?"

"Fuck knows," Toolshed growled and lowered the phone. "He's not answering!"

"Text him then!" Kite said. Biotic dropped to a crouch, allowing Kite to leapfrog off of him like a diving board in a half-baked attempt at tackling and immobilizing the completely mindless Heidi. She danced off to the side, and Kite flew right by her and smashed into a large potted plant. "God damn it!"

StrikeForce was there next. She and the Mole attacked jointly, trying to force her into a corner and away from civilians. It didn't seem to work, as she _leaped_ ("WHAT THE FUCK!?" Toolshed shouted about it) straight over their heads and chased down a woman carrying her shopping bags who was trying to get to the door. There was a small group of people there, and all of them met the bite of her knife. She turned then and set off at a sprint, weaving through the mall.

"Shit she's running!" Mosquito shouted. Kite hadn't seen him arrive, but was glad he did. "Sentinel we need eyes, where is she going?"

"Ten seconds."

"Hurry up!"

"I'm in, she's heading for the food court. You can head her off if someone can get Kite a lift."

Toolshed and Biotic sprinted ahead and skidded to a halt, holding their hands together to do exactly what Sentinel had suggested. Human Kite jumped up, pressing his foot to their hands and they launched him into the air. He slapped the release and the kite shot out again, shooting him over Heidi's head. He retracted it once more and slid to a stop. She didn't, however, and instead pulled into a sharp turn and doubled back. "She's headed back for you guys!"

She ducked away again, veering around Toolshed, who couldn't stop so quickly at his speed and sprinted past them, heading back for the center of the mall.

"What's going on?" Relief spread through Kite's chest at the sound of Mysterion's voice.

"What took you so fucking long?" he demanded, though with some effort because he was vaulting over a table.

"I told you guys I was gonna sleep. Give me a rundown, I'm suiting up."

"Mysterion it's Sentinel," said another voice over the wire. "We have a code red. We also need more code names for shit like this-"

"Cut to the chase, Sentinel."

"Right, code red. Homicide at the mall, one suspect, armed with a large carving knife."

"And you need backup because...?"

"It's Heidi, dude," Toolshed said, finally catching up with the sprinting Heidi. She turned on him and he glanced a blow to the left. "And not the Heidi anyone of us is used to. This is waaay beyond her cheer leader stuff-"

"TOOLSHED DOWN!" StrikeForce shouted. He leaped back, and not a second later the knife swiped past his neck.

"God fucking damn it! Son of a bitch!" he swore. "Fuck, she nicked my neck!"

"Just be glad she did not slit joor throat! Zees is bullshit. We need to catch 'er in a trap!" The Mole was right, they were getting nowhere and the body count was climbing. Most people had been evacuated, but even one person dead was too many.

"Run me through it, what happened?"

"About ten minutes ago a mall officer was murdered after approaching Heidi Turner," Toolshed said through gritted teeth. He was dodging, but she was bearing down. "She was walking around in circles below the busted glass dome you and the Coon shattered a few nights back. She pulled a knife on him and cut his throat. Me and Kite happened to be right here when it happened so we tried to get people out of the way. She attacked the girls she was with. They're both alive but injured. I dunno where she pulled this out but she's fucking _fast_." That was an understatement. She was a god damn _blur._

"Not as fast as me," Mysterion growled.

"Biotic, try and get her cornered since she can't hit you!" Kite shouted over the noises of screaming shoppers. He'd taken her attention off of Toolshed for the time being, but only for a moment. They were getting tired.

"I'm here," Mysterion said, and a purple blur confirmed his words as he dove through the dome to the ground below.

"Thank fuck," Kite breathed, bending over to catch his breath. Mysterion was appreciating the sight that greeted him, a bloodbath of horror-movie proportions. He leaped to action, blitzing towards the dancing and weaving Heidi, who was making her way back over to Kal and Jessie; they were crouched behind a bench, but only for a moment. Heidi smashed through it and the pair bolted out.

"Run Kal!" Jessie shouted, then spun on her heel to use herself as a shield between Kal and the far-gone Heidi.

"StrikeForce get that one out of here!" Mysterion ordered. She nodded and sprinted around behind Heidi to Kal, picked her up with ease, and dashed for the door.

Mysterion managed to yank Jessie out of harm's way and catch Heidi's swinging arm. He had a firm grip on her, one she couldn't break.

"He's got her!" Toolshed said, still winded, but he straightened up and jogged forward none the less. Heidi spun, her caught arm twisting at an unnatural angle. With her free hand she grabbed the knife and thrust it into her own chest.

Everyone froze. "What... what the FUCK?!" Kite shouted and sprinted forward. Mysterion released her and she staggered back, losing her grip on the knife. She didn't need to hold it anymore, it wasn't going anywhere.

Then she laughed. Blood was oozing from her mouth. The hollow giggle that bubbled out of her mouth made a shiver grip The Human Kite's spine. She sat down, her legs out straight, and the laugh grew louder. "Ah ha ha... It's funny, right?" she moaned. "It's funny..."

Kite dropped to her side. "Heidi c'mon, snap out of it," he muttered. Her hollow black eyes shifted to him.

"Heehee, I can't," she whispered. "But... _but_... remember to follow... the _voices_."

"She's _nuts_," Mosquito mumbled.

"Everyone is to some degree," she took on a more serious tone. "But... you have to remember Mysto."

Mysterion's eyes narrowed and he knelt down to face her on eye-level. "Remember what?"

"Remember the sounds... that song... that... _thing..._" She slumped over and her eyes glassed over. Kite gripped her wrist gingerly with two fingers and his thumb. Mysterion looked like he wanted to start shouting, but Kite shook his head.

"She's gone, dude," he murmured and stood, watching as blood poured out of her mouth and her glassy black eyes stared off into oblivion to the sounds of approaching sirens.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Sorry for all the rehashing, but I promise it's not for the fun of it. Well I mean it is, but there's a point to it. I'm trying to establish the different points of view that will eventually make up the whole puzzle, so I promise it'll be worthwhile. Anyway thanks for reading everyone, I should be updating pretty regularly. Leave me a review, I love feedback, and thank you soooo much for that awesome review, Sapphire. That made my week._

_I'll see everyone next week!  
_


	3. The Seed of Doubt

**South Park - The Voices Beneath  
**

* * *

**Disclaimer: South Park and all related characters and ideas are (c) Matt Stone and Trey Parker; other copyrighted characters and ideas are property of their respective license holders. Any original content, plot ideas, etc. are of my own work and not being used for profit. **

**The following story will contain strong language, adult themes, bad puns and copious amounts of unadulterated insanity.**

**Enter at your own risk.**

* * *

******Arc 1 -MEMENTO MORI**

* * *

I'm cursed. I'm not really complaining about it... not right now anyway; it's a simple statement. But seriously, I'm cursed. I've had conversations about it before, but no one seems to remember.

I can't die.

I don't mean if I get shot it just heals right up. I can definitely be a corpse for a good two or three hours. Sometimes more I guess if it was a really bad death. There was this one time I fell into a wood chipper... nevermind, anyway.

The first time I died was nine years ago. The incident was only partly remembered by even my closest friends, but it happened. I'm really not sure who can remember it, just that I can. I've come to terms with the fact that my friends probably will never remember that I die on a regular basis and come back a few hours (sometimes a day) later. I think that's part of my curse. If someone sees me die, or is in the area where I died, or is somehow affected by my death, they lose all memory of it the next day. What's worse is what it does to my loved ones.

I really couldn't give a fuck less how it affects my dad or my brother. They don't seem to care. Well Kevin doesn't, dad tries not to show real interest but I've caught him concerned a few times. It's Karen and my friends I'm worried about. I know people can't remember when I die, but I have this feeling that trauma like that, seeing someone ground to pieces, or blown up, or eaten, or shot, or stabbed, or whatever, would cause some psychological damage, whether they know it or not. I sorta have some evidence to back that idea up, too.

Four years ago I was out on a mission with Toolshed, the Human Kite, and Tupperware (he's changed his name since then). This was back before I hurled the Coon out of the League. Actually, it's the reason I hurled him out of the League. We were, at the time, called the Extreme Avenger League, or EAL. Now, the EAL was pretty well-established by then. People knew our names, they cheered for us when they saw us, all that jazz. And, on top of that, the Cthulhu Crisis gave some of the less stable people that heavy shove they needed to jump into serious villainy. I'm not talking small-time drug ring kingpins, I'm talking real psychos here. The wackjob of the day was a guy who called himself _The Eraser_. He thought he was hot shit because he had a mental condition, knowledge of explosives and access to a firearm.

Normally this would have been a run-through by the books case, open and shut mission, bad guy goes to jail, everyone wins. The Coon, unfortunately, couldn't not get it through his thick skull that he wasn't supposed to be there. Now, Mr. Eraser had planted a bomb. On a regular day this would be dealt with easy enough, Toolshed is pretty good at dismantling those. He was in the process of doing just that when that fucking fatass showed up. He knocked Toolshed over trying to grapple through a window and busted the mechanism. So we had to run. The bomb leveled a _whole fucking building_. Not smashed up a floor, a whole god damn building. Said building rained debris down on neighboring buildings. All in all, it was one great big clusterfuck.

So anyway, the Coon starts fighting Mr. Eraser hand to hand. That went well enough, I have to give credit where it's due, he's not bad at fighting. Except Eraser had a gun, and he's one of those megalomaniacs who doesn't like to lose. He pulled a gun on the Coon, but just because he wanted to buy himself enough time to _blow himself up_. Yes, he wanted to blow himself the fuck up. I didn't find that out until later. At the time I thought he was planning to use that gun to blow the Coon's head off, so I jumped in front of the gun. I guess I startled him, because he shot me straight in the chest. Let me tell you, that fucking hurts. Anyway by the time I came 'round again, Toolshed had knocked him out by throwing a wrench at his face, and I threw the Coon the fuck out of the League. The meeting after that discussed protection, and since everyone agreed so quickly even though they didn't know why, I came to the conclusion that while they can't remember specific details about my deaths, they still leave imprints.

And if that's the case, what does it do when someone witnesses a death that's so traumatic it drives them insane?

* * *

**The Seed of Doubt**

* * *

Mysterion slammed his fist against the tile floor, then rose and stood back. Heidi's blood was spreading out in a puddle of deep red. The whole damn place was covered in blood, enough to make someone sick. People were still screaming, running in frantic panic, trying to make for the door. The cops, as usual, were too late. He took several steps back and looked around at the faces of his team. In all their time working together, they had never had to deal with death on a scale this massive, especially not committed by someone they knew. This was a new experience for all of them, and Mysterion had to admit, it wasn't even remotely positive. Their faces, those he could see anyway, all bore looks of forced strength. Inside they were probably reeling. His blue eyes turned, glancing over his shoulder at the girl he was still standing protectively near.

Jessie had sunk to the ground. Wordless tears streamed down her face, and there was just nothing she could say. In some ways she was lucky, he thought sadly to himself. He and his team couldn't express the pain he knew they were feeling, not until they all made it back to base, so they were forced to plaster on stoic expressions. He knelt down beside her and placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. No one deserved to have to witness murder, and this was way beyond that.

"Jessica," he said, feeling strange using her full name in his deep masked tone. "You have to get up. You _need_ to be strong, okay? This is going to be painful but you need to stay strong. Kalaphie is wounded, she's going to need you."

Beautiful, tear glossed, blue-gray eyes tore away from all that was left of Heidi Turner and fixed on him. He knew first hand the trauma that witnessing death could cause. All he could hope is that she would be strong enough to face it. She swallowed hard and exhaled audibly, then said in a trembling but determined voice, "Y-yeah... I... I'm okay." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and blinked away the rest of her tears. Her eyes were defiant now. He stood and offered his hand, which she took to pull herself to her feet.

"Just what the hell is going on here?" demanded a new voice, one belonging to the lead detective of the Park County Police: Sergeant Harrison Yates. The copper-haired detective made his way to where the League members stood, most of them now occupying themselves with seeing the crime scene cordoned off and the survivors being treated by the EMTs that had just arrived. "Mysterion!"

The leader of the League lifted his head, eyes traveling to Yates. "You took your sweet time getting here, Sergeant," he said bitterly. Yates' usual partner, a laid-back man named Mitch Murphy, was not accompanying the Sergent. In his place was a man Mysterion had never seen. He was at least a head taller than Yates, putting him at only an inch, maybe two over Mysterion. He was dressed in a crisp white suit, a top hat under his left arm and a cane in his right hand. The other League members stopped to stare, taken aback at the stranger's attire and overall appearance. He had an olive-hued skin tone, with raven hair that was slicked back. He had a mustache that was curled like a proverbial Disney villain, with a goatee to match. All in all, he was a strange sight to behold. He and the Sergent were deep in whispered conversation. "Who the hell is this?" Mysterion demanded. He felt Jessie draw back behind him.

"That's not important, Mysterion," Sergeant Yates replied dodgedly. "I want to know just what the hell happened here!" He was staring the caped teenager down, eyes boring into him.

Mysterion observed him for a good several minutes. "You should go be with Kal. Be careful," he whispered to Jessie, who nodded quickly and set off in the other direction, straight for the doors. "Should be pretty obvious," he replied to Yates, narrowing his eyes. "Girl here," he said, pointing a gloved hand to Heidi's body, "decided to go on a bloody rampage. Body count is thirteen, fourteen if you consider that she stabbed herself in the fucking chest." He didn't usually take on such an agitated tone with Yates, but the accusing timber of the Sergeant's voice was pissing him right off. The Sergent continued to stare him down. Mysterion watched as the white-clad stranger leaned forward just slightly and whispered something into the Sergeant's ear.

"Seems like a lot of bodies, since your _entire team_ responded. Didn't really do all that great a job containing the problem," Yates said in the most condescending tone he'd ever heard. Mysterion stared at him, dumbstruck. "You kids do great taking care of small-time problems like drug rings, but I think you're out of your _league_ on this." A few of the other cops chuckled at the pun, but Mysterion was far from amused.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he growled, clenching his fist.

"Well it looks to me like you made the whole situation worse."

The entire League was standing nearby, within earshot of the discussion between Yates and their leader. Most of them wore expressions of shock and mingled anger.

"Is this guy fuckin' serious?" Biotic asked, tilting his armored head to face Mysterion.

"Thank you for your hard work kids, but maybe the police should handle it. Probably would have saved a lot of lives."

Mysterion saw the color drain from Human Kite's face. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, completely and utterly flabbergasted.

In the nine years since they'd started their superhero work, the League had always been in close contact with Sergeant Yates and the Park County Police department. At this point, they'd worked together on _hundreds_ of cases, stopped crimes, saved lives. In all those years, they'd never heard Yates talk down at them like he was right now. It hit them like running headlong into a brick wall.

"You're kidding, right?" Mysterion said after several minutes of silence, trying to figure out if the Sergeant was pulling a joke on them. "Saved a lot of lives? Let the police handle it?" He snorted with disbelief. "You didn't even get here until FIFTEEN FUCKING MINUTES after the whole thing started. Fuck, you didn't even show up until _after she was already dead._ You really want to tell me that you could have stopped all these people dying just by us not being here? That's fucking bullshit."

Yates' face colored noticeably in anger. "Now listen here-"

"No, don't even fucking start. We stopped the body count at thirteen before you even showed up. It would have been double if we'd waited around for you, so don't pull that shit with me."

Holding in whatever angry retort Yates had wanted to bellow made his face burn red, but he swallowed it none the less. His white-clad companion leaned forward again, whispered into Yates' ear, and then nodded to the League and disappeared into the crowd. Yates turned his back on them and started for the doors.

"So what, ees that it? Joor not going to do any investigating? Try an' figure out what 'appened?" the Mole demanded, a lit cigar already in his mouth. He'd graduated from cigarettes years ago.

"No I think it's pretty clear what happened," Yates replied, his voice somewhat detached. The heroes all looked around at one another. He stepped out the door and into the coming night, where a mob of reporters, journalists and camera crews were waiting for the head of the department to give a statement. Mysterion jerked his head towards the shattered dome. They'd listen from afar.

Kite went up first, latching his grappling wire to the metal frame and scaling it in minutes. The others followed along behind as well, and just as they vacated the mall below, they caught sight of what appeared to be-

"Is that a fucking _cleaning crew_?" Toolshed hissed. Sure enough it was, and a dozen men in jumpsuits holding mops and body bags appeared below them, then set to work carting off the bodies and scrubbing away the blood. "Holy shit dude, _they're washing away all the evidence_!"

Mysterion's eyes narrowed in irritation, and he moved for the edge of the roof, where he had a clear vantage to see and hear whatever Yates was trying to do. It looked like a press conference, but it wasn't going in any direction any of them could have thought. By their accounts, Yates could be thick-headed, and sometimes downright stupid. But this was an entirely different beast.

The head of the Park County police raised his hands, calling for silence so he could give his official statement. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Now, a tragedy occurred here tonight, involving one of the kitchen appliance stores, that took the lives of fourteen unfortunate victims . While it is indeed saddening, we have ruled these deaths to be _accidental_."

"WHAT?!" Mysterion started to yell, but the hands of Kite and Toolshed clamped over his mouth.

"An _accident_? Is he fucking serious?" StrikeForce hissed, her brow furrowed in rage. Biotic shook his head, his face invisible behind the helmet.

"It's not like Yates to lie like that, what's his game?" Mosquito whispered, leaning closer to hear a little better.

Yates took questions then, inventing answers as he went. When asked if there was any League involvement, he froze for a moment. "Erm... well they were present however they were unable to prevent this tragedy."

"Are any League members available for comment?"

"I'm fuckin' available," Mysterion growled, peering over the edge of the roof.

"No, no they're not unfortunately. Um that's all for questions, anything else can be answered at a later time. Thank you all." He stepped down and ducked away from the mob of reporters before they had another chance to worm information out of him.

_-x-0-x-_

"I can't believe that fucker!"

"I don't think any of us can."

"Since _when _the_ FUCK_ has Yates been into covering shit up? This was obviously NOT A FUCKING ACCIDENT!" Mysterion slammed his fist on the round table. He'd lowered his hood, but the mask stayed in place. Messy blond hair hung low over his eyes, only serving to make him look angrier.

After trying to confront Yates again and meeting with only a stonewall, the team had returned to the base. They sat around the round table, most of them still fully-geared (Biotic had taken off the helmet and both StrikeForce and Mosquito had removed their masks) and discussed what had happened. On the whiteboard that was situated behind Mysterion's chair, the words MURDER/SUICIDE were written in bold, capital letters with red ink.

Toolshed leaned back, ran his hands through his own hair and rubbed his temples. "The guy he was talking to was kinda... weird."

"I've never seen him before," Mosquito added.

"So let's write down what we know," Sentinel said, laptop open and perched before him on the table.

"We know Heidi went nuts and killed thirteen people," Mysterion said, his anger slowly subsiding. Sentinel began tapping away at the keyboard. "And that right before she died she said something about voices."

"Reasonable conclusion that she might have had dementia, or rapidly onset schizophrenia."

Mysterion nodded. "Maybe, but I'm not so sure. Her eyes were black, they're usually not like that."

Of all of them, StrikeForce was taking it the hardest. Heidi had been her friend since grade school, and watching her kill herself, after publicly murdering more than a dozen people, was a lot to handle. All things considering, she was managing better than he could have imagined. "I don't want to rule anything out," she said. Her voice quivered, but it was almost imperceptible. Mysterion saw as Toolshed's hand vanished under the table, probably to grasp hers. "I don't think we should rule out an external influence."

"What do you mean?"

She chewed her words for a moment. "Well, she was trying to tell Mysterion to remember something. About a song."

"I didn't hear it, I was too far off," Biotic said, looking between the others. "What'd she say?"

Mysterion furrowed his brow. "She said to remember to follow the voices."

Kite nodded. "Then she said to remember the song... and a thing, but she really didn't say much after that. It was... it was definitely pretty fucked up."

Sentinel tapped away at the keyboard again. "Alright, so we've got some things to start looking into," he said as he wrote. "What else do we have?"

"She was with Kal and Jessie when it started," Toolshed supplied. "She actually stabbed Kal in the arm I think. Maybe someone should talk with them and see what they know."

Mysterion nodded. "Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll stop in every couple days to check in on them."

Sentinel nodded and tapped away at the keyboard. "Alright, so what else?"

They were all silent for a moment as they thought. "Timmah?" Iron Maiden spoke up. "Tim-Timmah, timmah."

"That's a good point. We should figure out what we can rule out. That's an easier way to find a starting point," Biotic said.

"Good idea. So, let's start with the usual suspects. The Coon?" Mosquito added next, folding his arms on the table before him.

"I saw him go home with his mom, and this doesn't seem like his kind of game," Mysterion said thoughtfully. "And he only plays when he gets something out of it."

"Alright, so we're ruling out the Coon. What about Chaos?"

They all glanced around the table at each other. Whatever Professor Chaos had been up to lately, he'd been awfully quiet.

"I could check on him," Kite offered. "But so far he's been pretty busy. I think Sentinel was right, he's got school on his mind. Can't really afford to fail any of his tests."

"But let's not rule him out, just to be safe," Mysterion said, and wrote _Chaos_ on the board. "Okay, who else?"

Sentinel chewed his lower lip. "The cult?" he offered quietly. The others were silent, sudden tension in the air. It was a widely known fact that the cult and Mysterion had issues. Without a word Mysterion turned and wrote _Cult_ on the board, with Sentinel tapping away. "Right, so they're a possibility, but let's see what else we've got."

_Beep beep beep_ sounded softly, prompting everyone to glance around. "Ah shit," Kite said, glancing at his watch. "It's 9, we need to wrap it up and get moving." He directed his words at Sentinel, who nodded fervently.

"Right, so we have a few leads to start working before Saturday's meeting. Mysterion, want to hand out tasks?"

"Might as well." He got to his feet and strode over to the largest whiteboard, where all of their names were written. He started writing, speaking as he went. "I'm setting StrikeForce, as the one closest to Heidi, to speak with her parents and Heidi's other friends. Kite, you're assigned to check on Chaos. Toolshed and Mosquito, you're tasked with checking in on Heidi's recent medical history. Look for any indicators of mental illness. Biotic you get the job of keeping an eye on Yates, see what's up with that bastard. Iron Maiden and Sentinel, go over the feed from the fight and before it to look for anything strange." He paused, fixing his eyes on the word _CULT_, and inhaled. "That leaves me and the Mole to check in on the cult. Any questions?"

"Just one," StrikeForce said softly. "What the fuck is wrong with this town?"

_-x-0-x-_

By the time the sun rose, the events of the previous night seemed surreal. Like he'd been in a lucid dream. But Kenny knew all too well that wasn't the case. A spatter of blood on his cape assured him of this, as he woke early again, realizing that he'd been too exhausted to change out of his gear before crashing on his bed. He cursed at himself under his breath. If his family had been more attentive, it could have been a problem. Fortunately, at the moment, both his father and brother were quite incapable of barging into his room, and Karen had slept soundly through the night. He couldn't help but feel that he'd dodged a bullet somehow.

He woke at a more reasonable time than he had the previous morning, at a quarter to 7 am. Karen was already awake when he crept from his room after hastily ditching his gear and throwing on something that resembled pajamas. Things were more normal today (sort of). No waking at the crack of dawn, no whispering family in the kitchen. Well, not Stuart or Kevin anyway. Karen was there, but that was common. As he entered the kitchen, he spotted her beside the counter, a bowl in her grip as she whisked at its thick, pasty contents.

"Hey there, I'm making pancakes!" Karen said brightly. The kitchen the family shared was small, and not in the best shape. However, it was far cleaner than it had been in the early days of his childhood, when his parents had been into dealing meth, constantly drinking and doing god only knows what kinds of drugs. Things had started improving when their mother had gotten a job working at the Olive Garden, washing dishes for a meager living. Their lives only got better after Stuart and Carol McCormick had learned a hard lesson when the three children were taken away. A short stint in a foster home had actually made life better at home. It was still far from glamorous. They were the poorest family in town and they barely scraped by, but it was something.

Things had changed though, now that Stuart was the only one bringing in an income to the house. Having taken a job working construction, he worked long hours, and drank his nights away, so Kenny hardly saw the man.

Kenny smiled at his little sister. She'd already showered and dressed, wearing a sundress and a pink bow in her honey-auburn hair. "That sounds great, Karen," he said, and ran a hand through his unruly hair. She pursed her lips at his shaggy locks.

"Well go shower then. I mean it though, I get to cut your hair this weekend!"

He chuckled. "Alright, don't worry. I'll let you cut it." With that he padded back down the hallway to their tiny bathroom, and proceeded to get into the shower. As the water poured over him, so did the events of last night. It was driving him god damn insane! Like there should have been something he could've done, some way to stop that knife from sinking into Heidi's chest. He could only imagine what school was going to be like. Classmates died sometimes, but it wasn't often, especially not by their own hand. Aside from Kenny, but no one remembered those deaths.

He guessed what was really bothering him though, was not the eerie tone of her voice, or the strange actions, or her creepy black eyes, or even the murders. The thing that itched at the back of his brain the most was the tall white-suited man who'd whispered in Yates' ear like a mind-bending worm. Who the fuck was he, anyway? Yates had never covered up crimes or lied, not that severely anyway. Kenny was almost positive that the white-suit had said something, or forced him in some way to cover the whole damn thing up.

"Hurry up Kenny they're gonna get cold!"

He finished his shower, toweled off and dressed quickly, throwing on his boxers, a pair of faded blue jeans that were a size too big, a gray t-shirt and his hoodie, then made his way back to the kitchen where Karen had set the table. She beamed at him sweetly and sat down to eat, motioning for him to do the same, which he did a moment later. Honest to god, she had to be the sweetest kid alive.

"So how'd your test go yesterday?" he asked, taking up a fork to start cutting away at the pancake, then shoved a chunk of it in his mouth.

"Really good I think," she said, cutting her food neatly and taking a small bite. "I should know by Friday if I get into the classes." She paused, on the edge of a question. The tension in her hands, he observed as she tried to cut another piece of her pancake with trembling hands.

"What's up?"

"It's just... I heard something, before you woke up..." she trailed off, swallowed hard, and firmed her resolve. "Someone was murdered at the mall."

He paused, piece of pancake suspended before his mouth. "Where'd you hear that?"

"It was on the news this morning. The police said it was an accident but... but I had a nightmare last night."

Kenny's eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Karen chewed her lower lip apprehensively. "Just... I'm not sure. I had this nightmare, and I... well it's kind of stupid." Her face tinged red in embarrassment.

"It's not stupid Karen, go ahead. You can tell me," he urged. Something was tingling at the back of his brain.

"Well... I saw people die. A _lot_ of people. It was... it was really scary." She exhaled in an attempt at regaining her usual cheerful, sunny disposition. "But I dunno, I thought it was just a nightmare."

He grinned softly at her, his eyes willing her to smile again. They had the same striking sapphire eyes, a color inherited from their mother. She did smile again, but the smile was a little sad. He hated it when she looked sad, it ate at his insides. They finished the rest of their quaint meal in silence, and Kenny told her he would wash up the dishes. "Go on and catch your ride, and I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

"Okay Kenny. I'll see you in a bit!" The bright bubbly cheer returned to her angelic voice and she slipped on a pair of black ballet flats, slung her backpack over her shoulder and slid out the door. He tipped the dishes into the sink, ran the tap until the water ran hot, and scrubbed the plates clean. The mention of nightmares from Karen disturbed him, and he had no damn idea why. She'd seen death in her dreams, and death had happened. He wondered if she'd had the nightmare _while_ it happened? Or if maybe she'd seen it moments before... or after. In any case, Kenny didn't believe in coincidence. Too much shit happened in South Park to believe in something as mindless as coincidence. That was something he needed to look into.

Heavy footsteps behind him interrupted his thoughts. "Mornin' Ken," his father's drawl broke the silence. "Did yer sister get off to school?"

"Yeah," Kenny replied stiffly, setting the now-clean dishes in the rack to dry. He dried his hands on a paper towel, not trusting any of the questionable looking dishtowels strewn about the counters, and moved to the couch to pull on his socks and lace up his sneakers. Stuart followed a few paces behind, lingering in the kitchen doorway.

"So... you got class today?"

Kenny paused. When the fuck did his father ever make this much of an effort to make small talk with him? Hell, he never paid Kenny any attention if he could help it.

"Yeah," he repeated, his voice just as stiff.

"You uh... you go out last night?"

At those words he froze, a chill running up his spine. As far as he knew, his father had been passed out on the couch when he'd left the night before... right?

...Right?

He fixed his attention on his shoes again. "Went to study at Token's place," he said evenly. "Came home around eight."

His father didn't press the matter further. "Well have a good day at school then," he said, almost weakly, and after putting on the coffee pot he shuffled back down the hall to the bedroom at the end, where he slept alone. Kenny stared after him, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened.

_-x-0-x-_

"So did you sleep last night?"

"If I hadn't been completely fuckin' wiped out I wouldn't have, but yeah I did."

"I don't blame you. I ended up taking some freaking NyQuil to put me to sleep!"

Kyle had arrived well before Kenny, as was the norm. After having the short, awkward conversation with his dad, Kenny had left quickly, hoping to avoid a repeat. By the time he made it to the bus stop, Kyle was already there. And, oddly enough, so was Cartman. He stared between the two, utterly and justifiably confused. His left eye twitched.

"The fuck are you talkin' about?" he demanded.

Kenny rolled his eyes. "So you haven't heard, I'm guessing?"

"Heard what?"

"About Heidi, dude," Kyle said solemnly, not a trace of mockery or sarcasm in his voice.

"What about 'er?"

Kenny and Kyle exchanged glances of unease. "She's dead, dude."

Cartman stared at the pair of them, one eyebrow quirked. "What?"

His left eye twitched.

"Last night, at the mall. She stabbed herself."

"No fuckin' way. You two are bullshitting me."

The hissing of Stan's car interrupted, providing a much-needed distraction. Kenny had no desire to think about what had happened, or the blood, or Heidi's hollow, dead black eyes. He _definitely_ didn't want to hear that sing-song tone she'd tried to warn him with, if that could even be called a warning.

"Morning guys," Stan said wearily. His eyes were rimmed in shadow. He obviously hadn't slept.

"You look like shit, dude," Kenny observed upon sliding into the back seat after Cartman. Stan shrugged.

"Didn't sleep much, I was trying to console Wendy. She uh... she wasn't holding up real well after the meeting. She's better now, but it took some time to calm her down." It was quite understandable that Wendy would be upset. Kenny was completely surprised that she hadn't broken down in sobs in the middle of the meeting. Hell, just keeping her composure while Heidi's corpse was only a few feet away from her... it was fucking impressive.

The drive to the school passed in relative silence. The halls were a stark contrast to the bustling, happy frantic end-of-the-year rush it had been the day before. Few people were talking, and drifted about the halls like dreary ghosts. Most of the conversations were held in hushed voices. South Park was a small town and news traveled fast. They knew one of their classmates was dead.

The first thing the school did to address the issue was to release an announcement before the fourth period exam began that morning. The intercom crackled to life, and the voice of the principle, a doddering old man who hated the world and everyone in it, sailed through the silent, depressed classrooms.

"_Good morning, students_," he said, his voice taking on a matter-of-fact tone. "_As many of you know by now, one of our students was taken from us last night. We have been assured by the Park County Police that this tragic accident will be fully investigated. In the meantime I would like to halt the spread of rumors, and insist that while this event is indeed deeply upsetting, that students are encouraged to continue with their exams. Councilors are available if any student feels the need to discuss their feelings on the matter._"

Kenny was already sitting at his desk for his History exam when the announcement came on. Stan sat beside him, arms folded on the desk with his head resting against them. "Bullshit," he mumbled into his desk.

"Absolute bullshit," Kenny added to the statement. Yates had crossed a fucking line this time. He looked to the front of the room in time to catch sight of Jessie coming through the door, head bowed and eyes red. He felt a knot in the pit of his stomach form. If Stan hardly slept, Jessie probably hadn't slept _at all_. She took her seat, a desk that was diagonal to the left from where Kenny sat, and stared vacantly at the wood surface. Sympathy welled up inside of him. Even though she probably felt like hell, she was still as pretty as ever.

_Beautiful, really,_ he corrected himself. He felt the knot in his stomach ease.

"Hey, are you alright?" he whispered, leaning back to talk to her, turning in the chair to face her.

Those gray-blue eyes snapped up to him. "Oh, hey Kenny," she said. Her weak voice was almost a whisper. "I uh... yeah I'm okay. I just had a rough night."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She hovered on the edge of her response for a few moments, as though rethinking what she wanted to say. "Well n-" she cut herself off, and firmly made up her mind. "Um... yeah, yeah I think I'd like that. But uh... not here." She exhaled heavily, and managed a sad smile. Her eyes were glossy and red. He wondered how long she'd spent crying last night. "Thanks Kenny. That's really nice of you."

The warning bell went off and ended their conversation.

"Alright everyone, take your seats," said the weary teacher from the front of the room. The statement was redundant. No one was loitering or chattering, and an unsettling hush hovered over the room. Heidi's empty seat sat at the front of the room, a reminder of her absence. "I'm not going to bother taking roll-call, so anyone who fails to turn in a test will receive an automatic fail," he said as he paced up and down each row, passing out the test packets. The final bell rang. "Begin. Remember, no talking."

The soft sound of rustling paper was the only noise in the room. Kenny went through the pages rapidly, scratching out answers. As they had before, the answers came easily. Despite the tragedy and disquiet he felt, he was still confident he'd do fine on his exams. He came to the third page, and half-way down, it happened again.

_If one considers that immortality amongst mortals should be technically impossible, then what are you?_

He sat back and rubbed his eyes. No way was it due to sleep deprivation this time. What the hell?

He looked at the question again.

_If one considers that voting amongst women was technically illegal, discuss the suffrage movement._

He glared at the paper. He couldn't afford to start seeing shit during an exam. And seriously, what the hell? It didn't make any sense at all.

_-x-0-x-_

"One down, one more left," Stan said, attempting to sound happy as they walked down the hall towards the lockers. Cartman and Kyle were already there, stuffing their bags into their own lockers and preparing to head for the lunch room. Cartman's eye twitched. Kenny wondered if he'd always had a tick. Also, was he the only one who noticed it? It didn't seem like something anyone else had picked up before... so maybe it was just from the stress of exams?

"Dude I'm so hungry," he said. _Twitch_.

"You're always hungry, fatass," Kyle retorted and rolled his eyes.

"'Ay! Fuck you Kyle! I am not fat, I'm _big boned_!" Cartman hissed, slammed his locker door, and stalked off down the hallway. The other three boys stared after him as he went.

"What's his problem?" Stan asked. Kenny shrugged.

"Fuck if I know." His eyes traveled down the hall. Jessie was walking towards them, having visited her locker already to store her things during lunch. "I'll see you guys in the lunch room."

"Where're you going?" Kyle asked, puzzled.

"I'm gonna talk to Jessie, I'll meet you guys in the cafeteria." He set off down the hall, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, until he was within earshot. "Hey, how're you holding up?"

She looked up at him, and gave him a sad smile. "I... think I'm doing okay."

"Want to walk?" he offered and gestured towards the front doors.

"That would be nice," she said, and the pair strode together through the doors. The warm summer air was lifting to the spirits. "Thanks for doing this, Kenny," she murmured, swallowing hard. "I haven't really had anyone I can talk to, my parents are... I dunno, they don't really get it. I don't know if anyone does."

"Well try me. Go ahead and talk, and I'll just listen."

Her eyes lit up and a soft smile touched the corners of her lips. "Thanks Kenny. You're really sweet." She chuckled softly to herself. "The girls always said you had a nicer side but it's hard to tell with all the rumors and stuff." Her face burned a deep red. "Sorry... I ramble a bit I guess."

"Don't worry about it," he said gently. "Yeah, I know my reputation's probably not the greatest. It's alright, go ahead and talk. Whatever helps you start feeling better."

"Well... okay. I don't know how much you know about what happened last night. But it was really bad. Me and Kal and Heidi went to the mall after that study group, and she was fine... I dunno what happened. She just froze, and then she started pacing and got really weird, and then this mall cop walked up and..." She choked back a sob, rubbed her eyes and went on. "She... she killed him. Right in front of us. And then she hit Kal and I tried to stop the bleeding and there was so much blood..."

She trailed off again and stopped to compose herself. He paused with her, unsure if he should do something. Jessie covered her eyes for a moment, inhaled a ragged breath, and looked up again. "You okay?" he asked cautiously.

With a sad smile she nodded. "Yeah... it's just hard, you know? Just... one minute she's fine, the next she's lost her mind, and the next she's gone. And it's so crazy because I know the only reason I'm alive is because of Mysterion." She blushed furiously. "I wasn't even thinking, I just _knew_ I had to protect my friend, I didn't even think about what would happen when she got to me... she had that knife..."

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as they continued walking.

"I guess that sounds pretty stupid."

Kenny shook his head. "Not at all. I know how hard someone close to you dying can be." Jessie nodded in understanding. "You think you'll be okay for the last exam?" he asked after a moment of silence. They'd made their way around the school and back through the front doors, and were now trotting through the halls towards the cafeteria doors.

"Yeah I think so," she replied. "I just have French left today." Blue-gray eyes shifted up from the ground to rest on his. "But really Kenny... thank you. It really did help to have someone to talk to." They stopped just before the doorway.

"Don't mention it. That's what friends are for, right?"

She regarded him for a heartbeat, then looked straight ahead again. She grinned, this time not as sad as before. "I guess so," she said. "I'd better catch up with the girls, Wendy was holding up better than me this morning. I uh... I'll see you later, Kenny." She gave him a brief hug and disappeared into the crowded lunch room.

Kenny made his way over to the table he usually shared with the other guys, where they had already sat down with their lunches and set to work eating. Kenny eased into his seat between Kyle and Token. "Hey guys," he greeted them.

"You're late Kenny, were you hookin' up with someone in the janitor's closet again?" Cartman asked, somewhat sourly. His eye twitched.

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Fuck you, and no." He glanced around at the others. Wendy and Stan were seated together, and he had his arm around her shoulders. Her eyes were almost as red as Jessie's, but she seemed to be keeping it together better. Ike had decided to sit with the older boys today instead of his usual group of friends, and sat beside Kyle. They all seemed quiet, more than usual. Token sat close to Nichole, and the pair were whispering back and forth.

Lunch passed in relative silence, with only a few comments made between the group. It wasn't out of place, especially given the circumstances, but it put Kenny on edge.

"Hey Kenny!"

He turned, just as Karen arrived and hugged him. She looked sad. He didn't blame her. "Hey kiddo, how was your exam?" he asked her, and she squeezed into the small space between Kenny and Token, who scooted to allow her more room to sit. She smiled at him gratefully.

"It was okay." She looked up at Wendy, then said more somberly, "I heard about what happened. I'm really sorry, Wendy."

Wendy smiled sadly. "Thanks Karen," she said softly. Stan squeezed her shoulders.

"Where's Christophe?" Token asked, glancing around the table.

Stan snorted with laughter. "Principal's office. Teacher caught him with a cigar in his mouth in the hallway."

"He didn't even light it," Kyle added. The mood of the table lifted after that, and they all chuckled together. Kenny knew it was the small things that would have to see them through. He just had this damn nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that when things got bad, and they _would_ get bad eventually, they were going to need this. The small things that helped them smile, if just for a minute. He looked around at their faces, the sadness that hung behind their eyes and smiles. It was heart-wrenching.

He wondered if they were ever upset when he died, if only for a moment before they forgot all about it.

"I don't s'pose anyone is up for a study session?" Kyle put forward. That was obviously code.

"Yeah, I'll come," Stan said. "I don't have work tonight, so we can study for a couple of hours. Do you want me to come over after?" he asked Wendy.

She nodded. "That'd be nice. I should get the results of my entrance exams tonight, too."

The bell rang, signaling an end to lunch, and with a groan they all started to rise from the table. "See you guys after the next test then," Wendy said, and set off with the girls into the crowding halls.

_-x-0-x-_

Latin passed rapidly. Kenny was the only one who'd taken it this year, and found that he was actually _really_ good at it. Like, scary good. He often wondered, with passing curiosity, why he was able to remember the language, and all of its complexities with such relative ease, but often he got distracted by something or someone else before he had much time to invest any real thought into it.

As he walked through the halls, this proved true once again as he arrived at the lockers, where he was just in time to see something absolutely shocking.

Everyone was there, pulling their bags out of their lockers and preparing to head home for the day. Stan and Kyle had agreed to patrol for a few hours, and since the other members of the League had other tasks to work on, everyone agreed to reduce their public presence so they could get to the heart of the issue. Kenny jerked his bag out of the locker, snapped it closed, and leaned against it as he waited for the other three boys to finish putting their stuff away. Kyle was beside him, doing more or less the same thing.

"Eric could you move? I need to get to my locker," Wendy said.

Cartman's eye twitched. "FUCK YOU BITCH!" he shrieked, and she stared at him, dumbstruck. "Wait your FUCKING TURN!"

"What the hell is your problem?" she shot back at him. Instead of continuing his verbal assault, he drew back his fist and smashed it across her cheek.

The shock sent her stumbling back into Stan, who caught her and pushed her upright. "What the _FUCK_, Cartman?" he snarled. Kyle stepped forward to check on Wendy. She was in mild shock, but otherwise fine. Stan, however, was livid. "What the hell is your problem?"

_Twitch_. "Why don't you keep your bitch on a leash?" he spat. "Oh wait that's right, she's the one that has _you_ on a leash." _Twitch_.

Stan was always the mediator. He could keep an even head, even when people were losing their minds. But what Cartman said had done it. That took it too far, and a heartbeat later, Stan had wound up and decked Cartman right in the nose.

"Ow FUCK!" he sputtered through his hands, which he cupped over his face. "FUCK YOU STAN!" Cartman lunged. The others were scrambling to pull Stan and Cartman apart. Kenny snaked in between the two, despite their flying fists, and shoved Cartman's immense girth away from Stan.

"Alright, break it up!" Fuck, they were too late. The principal had turned up. "You both know better, no fighting in the halls! That's detention for the both of you!"

"But he punched Wendy-"

"I don't care who started it!" the older man snapped. "Report to detention right now!" He forced the white slips into both of their hands and stalked off down the hall again. Kenny stared after him, flabbergasted.

"God damn it," Stan growled, and turned to look at Cartman, who'd already started to shuffle away. He glared after him. "What the hell is his problem," he growled, then sighed. "I guess someone else is gonna have to study with Kyle."

"I'll go," Wendy offered, rubbing her cheek. "I need to do something besides sit at home and think."

"Are you sure?" Stan said. Kenny was silent, staring after Cartman with disbelief. What the fuck had gotten into him?

Wendy nodded. "Yeah. Whenever you finish detention you can head over. Okay?"

"Yeah... yeah that's fine. I'll see you tonight." He kissed her bruising cheek gently in a rare display of tenderness. "How are you guys getting home?" he asked Kyle and Kenny, who both shrugged.

"I can give you a lift home," Token offered, shrugging his backpack onto his shoulders.

"Thanks man," Kyle said gratefully. They bid Stan goodbye and headed for the doors.

"Is it me, or is everyone on edge lately?" Kyle asked quietly among the three boys as they walked across the mostly-empty parking lot. No one lingered after school had let out.

"It's not just you," Token said and unlocked his car doors remotely. "Everyone's actin' crazy lately."

The look on Kyle's face made Kenny arch an eyebrow. "What's up Kyle?"

"I dunno man," he said, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's like... you know how the air feels different right before a storm?"

Kenny nodded.

"Well it's like the air is different."

Kyle shrugged and fell silent, but Kenny had to say he would agree. The air was different.

_-x-0-x-_

Kenny arrived home at dusk. Mysterion had to patrol almost every night, if only for the sake of the city having his presence. He was a great crime deterrent, he had to admit. He opened the front door of the disheveled house and closed it behind him. His father wasn't home, and from the lack of stale smoke, Kevin was probably out too. Karen's backpack was beside the front closet, so she was probably in her room studying. He dropped his own bag into his room and shed his jacket, shoes, and hat, then made his way to her room and knocked twice. The door was ajar, and she had her nose in a massive book.

"Hey kiddo, how'd your last test go?" he asked her. She looked up at him and grinned.

"Hi Kenny. It went okay. I made you some dinner, it's covered on the table." He nodded to her in thanks, and set off to see what she'd made. A cheeseburger and fries, probably both from scratch. He smiled and set to work eating, suddenly remembering that he'd forgotten to eat at lunch. He was glad she made sure he ate, or he'd probably starve. Once he finished he washed up his plate and and padded back to his room. He heard Karen slip in behind him as he jumped onto the bed.

He chewed his words for a few minutes. "Have... you noticed anything strange going on lately? I mean besides last night. But... I dunno, feeling weird?" he asked cautiously. He couldn't quite place the strange feeling he had. Like... his insides felt wrong.

She nodded. "Yeah. Like something's not right."

"What's up kiddo?" he asked. Her face showed she was deep in thought.

She crawled up beside him and curled up, staring at the ceiling. "Hey Kenny?"

"Hm?"

She turned her head to observe him. "Do you... do you think Mom went to heaven?"

Kenny didn't answer at first. He wasn't quite sure what to say. He'd seen heaven. Fuck he'd been there probably a hundred times. He'd been to Hell too, but not as often as Heaven. In the beginning when he'd first started dying, Heaven only allowed Mormons. He'd never questioned why, exactly, but he knew that the policy had been overruled in recent years. He actually remembered specifically when, during an invasion of Heaven by the forces of Hell, and he'd been apparently chosen to direct the meager ten thousand angel soldiers against the overwhelming onslaught of demons.

He shifted his blue eyes to hers. "Maybe. I don't really know Karen, but there's a good chance."

She nodded and closed her eyes, and moments later, her even, soft breathing told him she'd fallen straight asleep. He waited a few minutes then sat up gently, picked her up carefully, and carried her to her room, where he lay her on her own bed, covered her with a blanket, and closed the door softly.

* * *

_Author's Notes: There's a lot of little things in this chapter that'll come into play later. For anyone who's curious, Jessie and Kal are both first introduced in the episode "Stupid Spoiled Whore Video Playset." Thanks everyone for the reviews! I love feedback. _

_Most of the characters in this story are characters that can be found at some point or another in the show. I'm trying to keep the original characters to as few as possible, and all of them will be unimportant. Some of the more prominent characters that come up in later chapters you might have to try real hard to remember. A lot of them didn't have last names, so I added some in. Anyway, thanks for reading, see everyone next week!  
_


	4. Witness Protection

**South Park - The Voices Beneath  
**

* * *

**Disclaimer: South Park and all related characters and ideas are (c) Matt Stone and Trey Parker; other copyrighted characters and ideas are property of their respective license holders. Any original content, plot ideas, etc. are of my own work and not being used for profit. **

**The following story will contain strong language, adult themes, bad puns and copious amounts of unadulterated insanity.**

**Enter at your own risk.**

* * *

******Arc 1 -MEMENTO MORI**

* * *

My name is Stan. I'm seventeen years old; I'm apparently a jock. I've had a steady girlfriend since I was eight years old and I swear, me and Wendy couldn't be tighter. I think what really made it solid for us was about two years ago. Or was it three? Yeah, it was three years ago.

See, to explain this I have to explain the circumstances first.

Wendy and I started "going out" when we were eight years old. At the time it was kinda that kiddy love, where you say "Oh this is my girlfriend" and you hang out and watch movies sometimes. We broke up once in the fourth grade but it only lasted a few months, and we got back together after some crazy shit with a girls' list and... well anyway. So we really got serious in the seventh grade, and it wasn't until freshman year that I realized that I really _loved_ her. I don't mean like, oh we got so used to being together that we just stepped up to saying the L word. I mean that it was then that I just knew that I wanted to be with Wendy forever.

Ever since I was nine years old, I've been a superhero. It started out as a game, but it evolved into something huge. We called ourselves Coon and Friends to start out with, and we had our base in Cartman's basement. Even before most of the others (obviously aside from Kenny) I knew who my superhero identity was going to be: Toolshed, master of power tools. Then the Cthulhu Crisis happened, and everything just... exploded I guess. Our original group consisted of myself, the Coon, Mysterion, Tupperware, the Human Kite, Mosquito, Iron Maiden, and of course, Mintberry Crunch. The crisis itself passed pretty fast. We spent some time in R'lyeh and we were saved by Mintberry Crunch, who it turned out had real super powers. It was pretty cool, all-in-all. After the incident settled down, I think we all just knew that we didn't want it to be a game anymore. We wanted it to be real. So we did it, we moved our base out of the Coon's basement and started meeting at this crappy unused warehouse on the edge of town.

We got better and better over the years. At the start we dealt with some small-time stuff, like graffiti, jaywalkers, littering, shit like that. But people started getting into real crazy fucking stuff after the Gulf Crisis. The whole premise of our superhero work was that we had to protect the people we cared about. Superhero movies, comics, everything like that always said that the ones closest to us were always in danger if they knew who we are. So we agreed to keep it a secret. I knew it meant I had to lie to Wendy, and it bothered me for awhile, but I guess I convinced myself that she was safer that way. We didn't really need the rule at first, but we went up against some seriously psychotic motherfuckers. There was this one guy in eighth grade who called himself The Eraser... anyway.

So in freshman year, we came up against a guy who called himself the Mind Breaker. He was really into kidnapping, torture, mental games, shit like that. But he _hated_ us. I don't mean like how criminals hate cops, I'm talking how Lex Luthor wants to grind Superman's bones into dust and snort 'em like coke. We thwarted one of his kidnapping attempts, and he had a grudge ever since. He started attacking people in South Park because he knew that was where we all lived, so he targeted people we knew. I dunno how the creepy bastard figured it out, but he eventually worked out that the girls in our grade were important to the League, but he didn't know why or how. So that stupid fuck kidnapped Wendy, Bebe, Jessie, Red, Heidi, Sally, Lola, Annie, and Jenny. Needless to say, I was furious.

The fight that came after was pretty massive for all of us. It was really the very first full-League fight we'd had since the Mole and Sentinel joined the team, and since the Coon had been kicked out. The fight was pretty intense, but the best part of it was Wendy. I'm not sure how she figured it out, she's pretty damn smart, but she knew who I was. The others not so much, but apparently she could tell it was me. She got loose and jumped into the fight, and I'd never been more afraid in my life. But damn, even then when she was mostly untrained, she could _fight_. I mean I've seen her fight before. She kicked the shit out of Cartman back in the fourth grade. Here though, in that huge fight, it was on a whole different level. And I realized then that having her fighting along side me, working with me, watching my back... that was it. That was what I wanted.

That's still what I want, even though it terrifies me that something could happen to either one of us. We just go with what we're dealt, and no matter what it just feels right.

* * *

**Witness Protection**

* * *

The alarm went off at 4:30 am like it always did, but Stan felt worse than usual when he slammed his fist on the digital clock to silence it. His cheek was still sore from where Cartman had struck it the day before in their sudden brawl in the school hallway. Groggily he climbed out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom like a drunk, too tired to control his legs properly. He managed to step into the shower without falling on his face, which was a miracle in itself, and proceeded to wash up, towel off, and dress without any major incident.

He was still going over the events of the previous day in his head. They played out in front of him like a movie against the backs of his eyelids. There was something _seriously_ wrong with Cartman, but he'd been so pissed off that he just didn't take the time to really look at it. After the brawl both boys had earned themselves detention from their all-loathing principle. Detention went faster than he expected, but it lasted a full two hours. By the time he finished, he'd made his way straight to Wendy's house. She'd still been out on patrol with Kyle, but he only had to wait for fifteen minutes before she returned home. StrikeForce and Kite had tagged in Mysterion to patrol after them, since it was all quiet, and that meant Stan and Wendy had the night together. He'd held a cold compress to her bruised cheek and remarked how rare it was for anyone to get a surprise swing in like that.

She punched his arm playfully and they ended up just laying together, talking until well past midnight.

All in all, the night hadn't been a total bust.

The sun still hadn't risen by the time he slipped out the door, started his car, and headed into town to start work. The coffee shop he worked at was decent enough, and the owners liked him. They were two streets down from Tweak Bros. so the customers didn't overlap much. Mostly they got all the kids who also had morning jobs. That morning it stayed quiet, so Stan took the downtime to study. By the time 8:30 rolled around he'd crammed so much into his head he thought it might explode. He hung his apron, pulled on his signature hat, and set off to pick up his friends before heading into school.

When Stan pulled up to the bus stop, he wasn't surprised not to see Cartman. Stupid prick had probably found another way to school. That didn't really bother Stan any, he was still pretty pissed off.

"Morning," Kenny said as he slid into the back seat alone. "How'd detention go?" he asked with a grin. Kyle slid into the passenger seat and Stan eased the hissing car back into the street.

"Meh, went fast I guess. Spent a few hours with Wendy after, the swelling is starting to go down."

"Dude," Kyle said, "there is something really wrong with Cartman. I mean fuck, he's a rude insensitive asshole but he doesn't usually resort to violence that fast."

"Has anyone else noticed he's got a tick now?" Kenny asked cautiously.

Stan arched an eyebrow and glanced at Kenny in the rear-view mirror. "Huh?"

"A tick... like his eye twitches _all the time_ now."

Stan pondered this. "I didn't notice that but now that you mention it, yeah. What the fuck?"

Kyle's face lit up with similar realization. "Dude, I didn't even realize it but holy shit, yeah, I noticed that too!" Kyle swiveled in the passenger seat so he could see both boys, and looked between them. "I read something in the news yesterday morning, there was a break-in at one of the museums in Fort Collins. They said the only thing that went missing is an old book. You don't think it's related, do you?"

He didn't have to elaborate much further, both Stan and Kenny knew what he was talking about. Stan shrugged, but kept his eyes fixed on the road. "I... well it's hard to say. I mean it happened so fast with Heidi and she didn't really act like what Cartman's doing. But I don't think we can rule anything out at this point," Kenny put forward hesitantly.

Stan nodded, pulled into a parking spot in the school lot, and turned off the engine. The boys sat there for a moment. "So have either of you picked up anything from... well, anything?" he asked, shifting in his seat to see the other two.

"The cult is buzzing but it's not really in a suspicious way."

"Dude it's a cult, they're _always_ suspicious."

"You know what I mean. More suspicious than usual. And they're usually pretty vocal when they cause shit. They like the attention."

Stan nodded. "That's true." He glanced back at Kenny. "Me and Clyde really haven't seen anything out of place in her medical history. Her last checkup was a clean bill of health, but we have a little bit to go through yet. Still, I have no damn idea what happened."

"Me either," Kyle admitted. "And I caught up with Butters last night after I went on patrol with Wendy, he seemed kinda shifty but no more so than usual." He paused. "But I think we should keep a closer eye on him. Even if he's not involved it seemed like he mighta been planning something, or at the very least involved in something less than legal."

Kenny nodded. "I think I wanna call a meetup tonight after patrol. It'd be a good idea to touch base with everyone before the formal meeting tomorrow night, considering the situation at hand."

"I think that's a good idea," Kyle agreed. "Hey, since you and I are gonna be running patrol after school, you wanna check out the mall and see if they left any evidence behind?"

Kenny grinned and reached for the door handle. "That sounds like a great idea. Let's go, looks like the bell is gonna ring soon."

Stan and Kyle mimicked the motion, getting out of the car with their bags and closing their doors behind them. "Last day of school for three months," Kenny said with a sigh of relief.

"Right? God I hope shit calms down enough for us to have a _real_ vacation."

"Hear hear."

They passed through the doors and into the school, making their way to the empty lockers they still kept. By the end of the day, they'd be taking their locks off, turning in their last books, and wouldn't have to step foot here for the rest of the summer. They wove through crowds of students, and the unsettling hush that hovered over the students yesterday had only subsided a little. They were still whispering amongst each other, but the chatter had increased to a more normal level. Even through tragedy, the excitement of the last day of school was enough to lift their spirits just enough. They three arrived at their lockers, where Wendy, Token, and Christophe were already standing, cramming bags into lockers and holding a whispered discussion.

Stan slipped up behind Wendy and snaked his arms around her waist; he planted a quick kiss behind her right ear before releasing her. She glanced up at him and beamed.

"Hey guys," Kenny greeted them as they arrived. "How's your cheek, Wendy?"

She smiled. "Better now, thanks." Bebe arrived moments later, and hooked her arm with Wendy's. The girls were best friends, in much the same way Stan was with Kyle. He grinned in spite of himself, genuinely relieved that his girlfriend was fairing much better now than she had on Wednesday or Thursday. Her smile widened. "Hey Bebe."

"Hey guys!" she greeted everyone. Bebe was a chipper girl, with tight blond curls and hazel eyes. She was the same height as Wendy, but where Wendy's build was more muscular (not in an unattractive way though, Stan simply loved it), Bebe was slender. And despite being a cheerleader in contrast to Wendy's investment into student leadership, they were so close they were practically sisters. Bebe was also the most fashion-forward girl in school, since her mother worked for some big designer in Denver, and simply _loved_ when her classmates asked her for fashion advice, or for any fashion-related favors. So it was no surprise that her bright smile lit up like the sun when Kyle asked her to trim his hair.

"Really!?" she squealed, releasing Wendy's arm for a moment to bounce forward and seize Kyle's hat, much to his distaste.

"Not right now though-" he muttered and tried to reach for the green ushanka in her hands, but she had already danced behind him and started gently tugging at his overwhelming, curly red locks. The others couldn't help but laugh openly at the pout fixed on Kyle's face.

"Just let me look and I'll give you back your hat," she chastised, and he folded his arms in protest, but allowed her to continue anyway. "Yeah, you definitely need a cut Kyle. And _before_ tomorrow, if you catch my drift." She nudged him and winked, only serving to make him roll his eyes. Stan and Wendy both chuckled. "How about at lunch in the home-ec. room?"

"Fine fine, can I have my hat back?"

She pulled it back down onto his head and snickered as he twisted it to the correct direction. "So Wendy, wanna do coffee after school?"

Wendy nodded. "Yeah that sounds nice, we can get a coffee before Stan and I head out tonight." The girls hooked arms once again, and after a quick peck on Stan's cheek, Wendy headed off down the hall, arm-in-arm with Bebe.

Stan turned to Kyle, Kenny, and Christophe, who were the last remaining since Token had headed off after Wendy and Bebe for his computer class.

"So, to shop class then?" Stan said, and the other three boys nodded and trotted towards the basement.

Mr. Adler, who taught shop for elementary, middle, and high school, had always made the boys a bit wary. He had strange habits, even when they'd been in third grade. But ever since finding out in the fourth grade that he was an active participant in the Cult of Cthulhu, they never trusted him again. Of course, he was completely unaware of their identities, so he passed it off as general student dislike.

They made their way to the table they shared near the belt sanders and sat down. They still had a few minutes before the warning bell rang. Christophe had already started chewing on a cigar. It was a habit for him, even without it being lit, and he claimed it helped him think. Shop was a nice break, since their final exam had been building their own unique items out of a 12"x12" block of wood. All of them had received high marks, even Christophe, whose ornately-carved upside-down cross with the finger engraved into the back had earned him an A as well as detention. They all found it hysterical.

"So," Christophe said with the unlit cigar in his mouth, "'ow was detention last night?"

"Went fast, it was pretty lame."

"Well, nice job punching zat fat prick in zee face. 'E deserved it."

Stan grinned. "A bit, yeah. Oh hey, before I forget, Kenny mentioned a meetup tonight. Think you can make it?"

Christophe chewed on the cigar and smirked. "Of course. What time?"

Stan's eyes shifted to Kenny, who chewed his lip as he thought for a heartbeat. "Well, me and Kyle are gonna study for about... three hours? Once school finishes, so how about 6:30 or so?"

"Sounds good."

The warning bell went off and Mr. Adler made his way to the podium at the front of the room. "Alright kids settle down for a minute. Since you've all gotten your final grades, you can use the next hour and a half to study for your last test, or talk amongst yourselves. Please stay at your tables though and keep the volume at a respectable level." With that he slinked back to his office, and continued watching the class through the plexiglass window that divided his office from the shop room.

"Well," Kenny said, glancing around. No one was paying them any attention, but Stan knew he still didn't trust breaking out of coded speech. "Did you and Wendy turn up anything studying last night?"

Kyle shook his head. "Not really. It was seriously quiet. Not even any drug dealers on the streets, it was kinda weird."

Stan quirked an eyebrow. "Not even that guy behind the movie theater?"

Again, Kyle shook his head. "Seriously it was fucking weird."

"That _is_ weird," Stan agreed. "What about you guys?"

"Nothing. Like, _nothing_, it was creepy as hell out last night. I did some checking around, there were a few people out and about but _apparently_," Kenny paused again to look around, and lowered his voice, "the cops are putting another spin on it, something about a potential madman on the loose."

Stan stared at him incredulously. "Are you shitting me?"

Kenny shook his head solemnly. "I wish it was a fucking joke. First an accident, now a madman... stupid prick."

He was of course referring to Yates. Stan wondered if Token had turned up anything of the Sergeant's strange behavior, or the tall man in the white suit. It definitely merited further investigation.

"We'll know more tonight. I bet Ike has turned some stuff up," Kyle said reassuringly. "He seemed pretty excited last night."

They were forced to abandon their conversation in favor of something more tame, since they were joined at the table by Annie and Jenny. They told the boys that Sally, who was usually with them, had taken the rest of her exams early and her parents had pulled her out of school, since her cousin's death. The family was holding a private memorial before the public funeral the following week. They talked about summer plans, how they thought the following school year was going to go, and a number of other mundane topics that Stan had hardly any interest in.

By the time the bell rang for lunch, he'd become lost in thought, and only participated minimally in the conversation.

They all stood from the table and filed out of the room towards the cafeteria, where they made their way over to their table. Kyle was dragged off by Bebe to the snickers of the other guys. "I'll be back," he muttered and was pulled out of the lunch room. Stan sat down beside Kenny, and Wendy slipped into the seat beside him. Her cheek still sported a bruise, but it wasn't as violently purple as it had been last night. That was good, she was healing up pretty fast.

"Hey Wendy," he said as she scooted in closer to him, put his arm around her waist, and flashed her a smile. She returned the grin and leaned forward on the table. "We're gonna have a meetup tonight, that sound okay?"

"Mhmm. What time?"

"6:30 I think is what Kenny said." Stan glanced in his direction for confirmation and Kenny nodded. "Yeah, 6:30. So that gives us a good three hours."

"That works." She exhaled heavily. Stan knew she was still pretty out of sorts. The events of Wednesday night had rocked Wendy to her very core, and Stan had sat with her while she sobbed for a good two hours after the meeting had ended. Wendy was so strong, but witnessing something like what Heidi did to those people and then to herself... well, Wendy was a fighter, and Stan was proud that she'd been able to stay strong for such a long time though all that happened, through the meeting after and even until they sneaked into Wendy's room later that night, before she finally broke down. The wash of emotion cut him so deeply, and even though Heidi's demise was tragic even for him, he knew it was a hundred times worse for her friends.

He squeezed her lightly with the arm he had wrapped around her, and he felt her left hand rest on his. She squeezed it in return to express her quiet gratitude. Stan's dark blue eyes shifted up as a newcomer approached the table, and was surprised to see that who turned up to talk to Kenny was not Karen, who would frequent the table to talk to her brother and the other boys, but Jessie.

"H-hey guys," she said shyly. Wendy looked up and smiled kindly.

"Hey Jess, why don't you sit?" she said, gesturing to the seat across the table from where she herself was seated. Jessie flashed her a grateful smile and did as suggested, sliding into the empty spot beside Christophe, who was paying no one any attention since his brown eyes were fixed on his phone, and he was quite obviously very deeply interested in whatever he was looking at.

"Thanks."

Stan shot Kenny a glance, and for a fraction of a second thought he saw something like a blush appear on the guy's face. Stan narrowed his eyes determinedly, then nudged Wendy gently. She peered over her shoulder at him quizzically. The silent conversation they held was just one of many they had, where they could understand each other perfectly without the utterance of a single syllable.

_What?_ her gray eyes questioned. Stan loved her eyes. They were so striking, almost a silver that he'd never seen before or since meeting her.

His eyes flicked to the right, to where Kenny sat.

Her eyes followed and snapped back, and she quirked an eyebrow. _What about him?_

Stan was unable to suppress a grin as his eyes then shifted up to Jessie and back again. The look he gave her said _So what do you think?_

Wendy's gray eyes followed and flicked back again. Her lips twitched into a smile, and she nodded. _He totally does._

They were interrupted a heartbeat later when Kenny shifted completely in his chair. "Take the hat off, Kyle," he said. Or commanded, really. His face had cracked into a grin.

Stan peered over his shoulder. Kyle was indeed approaching, green ushanka covering his hair, with Bebe only steps behind him. He slid into his seat on the other side of Kenny. "I'll take it off later," he said matter-of-factly and started opening the brown paper bag that contained his lunch.

"Nu uh, right now," Kenny demanded. "We gotta approve."

Bebe giggled and, before Kyle could get a secure hold on the hat, she jerked the top of it and it sailed right off his head.

"God damn it, Bebe," he groaned, then folded his arms. A collective laugh bubbled around the table, and they all leaned in to give him appraising looks.

"It looks good, Kyle!" Wendy said approvingly with a nod.

"Yeah, Bebe did great as always."

"Better than the mop it was twenty minutes ago," Kenny teased. "But seriously, nice work Bebe."

She gave them a mock bow and set down on the other side of Jessie, then dropped her voice to have a short, whispered conversation with her. She hugged her supportively and nodded to whatever Jessie's hushed response was. In the wake of the tragedy, friendships and bonds were the best things they could have.

_-x-0-x-_

As soon as the lunch bell rang, the group of students got up from the table and headed straight for the hallways. They only had one exam left before the end of school, and somehow, by some strange miracle, almost all of them had gym together, which doubled as their homeroom. And since it was gym, they really didn't have a final test. Instead they got to sit in the gymnasium and hang out, or talk, or shoot hoops, or whatever they decided they wanted to do. So Stan, along with Kenny, Kyle, Token, Clyde, Craig, Tweek, Wendy, Christophe, and Jimmy all sat in the bleachers, watching from above as some of the other students passed basketballs back and forth or loitered on the court.

Wendy sat one row down from him and leaned against him, and he used his knees to prop his elbows against. Kenny sat beside him, straddling the bench and resting his arm on his raised knee. Stan could tell he was scanning the gym for someone, who he apparently didn't see.

"Where's Cartman?" he asked after a few minutes. Stan furrowed his brow. He hadn't actually _seen_ Cartman all day, not since after the asshole had shuffled out of detention and into his mother's car.

Kyle thought for a minute. "I haven't seen him all day," he said slowly, looking around at the others. Normally they also had gym class with Cartman, but he didn't appear to be present. Or if he was, he was certainly out of their line of sight.

Kenny stood slightly, peering over the edge of the bleachers. "He's here," he said with an eyebrow quirked. "He's over there. Dunno who he's talking to though."

Stan shrugged. As far as he was concerned, Cartman could stay all the way over there until he came off of whatever trip he was on. Cartman had never really been into drugs, but he was acting like he was on something bad. Stan furrowed his brow as he delved deeper into thought. Something was definitely up. Whether or not it was related to all the other shit going on around them still remained to be seen, but he had a nagging feeling that everything they'd missed so far was somehow going to come back to bite them in the ass.

His attention was dragged back to the friends that sat around them and for the rest of the period, they spent their time talking, joking, laughing, and just generally enjoying their last minutes of school before it let out for summer vacation. When the bell rang, the now former-juniors cheered and sped out of the gym and headed for their lockers for the last time of the school year. Wendy slipped her hand into Stan's and they strolled behind the others.

"So I'm gonna go have coffee with Bebe," she said as they arrived at the lockers. "And you have to drop the guys off, right?"

"Yeah I think Kyle said he wanted to do a bit of walking downtown before he and Kenny went off to... er... hang out." Suddenly very aware that anyone listening would find the term _study_ to be strange, he'd changed his wording at the last minute. They were planning to discuss their code words tomorrow at the big meeting, which he was glad for. Some of their terminology was way outdated.

"Okay that works. When you guys are done do you want to meet at my house?"

"Yup, I'll head over. Text me when you're done with coffee."

She smiled and turned to face him, pushed herself up onto her toes, and kissed Stan firmly on the mouth. He was the tallest in the group, reaching over six feet, where Wendy only stood at five feet, nine inches. She was tall for a girl, but nowhere near as tall as Stan was, so she often had to stand on her toes to kiss him, or he'd have to bend down. Bebe arrived in her usual bouncy fashion, laughing up a storm.

"Summer!" she giggled excitedly. "Let's go, I _need_ coffee." She locked her arm with Wendy's and their pair of girls headed for the front doors.

"I'll see you tonight Stan!" she called over her shoulder. He waved as she vanished through the doors and turned to Kyle and Kenny, who'd just closed their locker doors for the last time and stood waiting, grins plastered on their faces.

"Let's go!" Kyle said brightly, and the three made their way towards Stan's car. "Thank _god_ we're done. I need a break."

"Seconded," Kenny chimed in, stretching out as they walked, his arms reaching over his head towards the sky. "So, we've got what, a half hour until you're supposed to meet Wendy? Let's get some food."

"Oh good call, I'm _starving_," Stan agreed, his stomach rumbling loudly. "Burgers?"

"Fine with me," Kyle said, and pulled open the passenger door. They talked about their half-formed summer ideas on the drive, until Stan pulled into a parking spot downtown and they left their bags locked in the car. They strode down the sidewalk once they'd obtained their food, munching away happily at their burgers as they walked.

Clouds had started to roll in overhead, but it was still warm. Stan inhaled deeply. Kyles comment from the day before was ringing in his mind. _The air is different_. Of course it could just be the weather, but there was something else, too. He couldn't really put his finger on it, though. His eyes fixed on the sky.

"So..." Kyle said cautiously. "Tomorrow."

"What about it?" Kenny ventured, balling up the cheeseburger wrapper and tossing it into a nearby waste basket.

"Well before that meeting tomorrow I'm meeting Lola for coffee."

The speed at which Kenny's head shifted to face Kyle made Stan think he'd given himself whiplash. "Seriously?" Kenny grinned, slinging an arm over Kyle's shoulders. "Congrats man! It's about damn time."

"What's that mean?"

"Nothing, just that you've been utterly _failing_ to ask her out since eighth grade."

Kyle grinned sheepishly and playfully shoved Kenny. "Yeah I know, shut up," he laughed, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Anyway it was her idea, so-"

"So nothing, turn it into a real date for fuck's sake!"

They continued on for a little while, discussing girls, and dating, and how Kyle had managed to work up the nerve to ask Lola out. Stan half suspected Kenny was looking for advice, since Kenny never really _dated_ so much as _hooked up_ with girls. The last time Kenny'd had a steady girlfriend was when he'd dated a girl from across the country named Kelly Hensen, which, as Kenny told him later, had ended abruptly when Kelly started hanging out with some really weird guys and turned into someone he hardly even knew. He'd also briefly dated a girl named Tammy Warner, but he'd only done it to get laid, though Stan never really heard (or remembered, really) how it ended.

The heaving, ragged breaths of someone caught their attentions as they passed by an alley, and they all stopped. "What the fuck is that?" Stan murmured to the others.

From the alley emerged Cartman. But he looked worse than they'd ever seen him. Stan vaguely remembered once when the town had gotten rid of KFC for a short period of time, and Cartman had gone through some heavy withdrawal. This though... this was far worse. His skin looked pasty and he was sweating, despite the mild climate. His hair was unkempt and his hat was askew on his head. His jacket was open and hung at an odd angle on his shoulders; beneath it he was wearing a _Who is the Coon?_ t-shirt that was covered with patches of what looked like soot.

The boys exchanged looks of concern. "Dude are you okay?" Kenny asked cautiously.

_Twitch_.

"F-fuck you," he sputtered. "Yer trying to... t-to... to spy on me!"

_Twitch_.

Kyle blinked several times in surprise. "Um... what?"

"You h-heard me, Jew!"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Go home and rest or something dude, you look like shit."

"Seriously."

Kenny was staring at Cartman incredulously. _ Twitch_. "You look a little fucked up, Cartman. Have you even slept?"

Cartman's whole left side of his face seemed to spasm. "C-can't."

"Why?"

"Bec-c-cause you assholes are... are _spying_ on my d-dreams!"

"Uh huh." The other three boys exchanged looks of concern and disbelief. "Okay then..."

"I'd better get going to Wendy's house, I'll see you guys in a few hours. I'll have my phone on if you need help or something."

"We'll see you later then dude," Kyle said. Stan turned, leaving the disheveled Cartman behind, muttering something obnoxious to Kyle and Kenny, who apparently decided to ignore him and his weird bullshit.

Stan jogged the rest of the way back to his car and jumped in, fired it up, and pulled out to the street. He wanted to see Wendy, to see if she was still holding up as well as she had been. He pulled up in front of her house, parked and trotted up to the front door. She swung it open before his hand could reach the bell to ring and leaped up to hug him around the neck.

"Whoa!" he managed, surprise evident in his voice, but he wrapped his arms around her all the same. "Is this a sad hug or a happy hug?"

"Happy!" she replied delightedly, and stepped back from him. In her hand was clutched a sheet of paper. "I took the top in all of my AP tests and I got college credits for all of them! _And,_" she said, hardly able to contain her glee, "I get to start taking three college classes with the rest of my high school course next year!" Wendy's smile lit up like a brilliant sunrise, and she leaped up again to hug him around the neck.

Her excitement was beyond contagious, and he found himself laughing and squeezing her tightly. He spun her once and set her down on the ground, grinning. "That's awesome!" he said and hugged her again. "Wanna go for a walk?"

"Absolutely. I had some stuff I wanted to talk to you about anyway," she said, somewhat calmer, though her face was still broken in a blissful grin. She stuffed the sheet of paper into the back pocket of the faded skinny jeans she wore, adjusted her signature lavender beret, and pulled the door of her house closed. Then she bounded down the front steps and they set off into the warm afternoon.

The clouds above them grew darker, almost ominous, but Wendy's good mood kept his spirits high. The wind was blowing through the cascading black silk that was her hair.

"So, Stan," she said a little more seriously, slipping her hand into his. "Have you thought about college at all?"

He chewed his lip lightly. "To be totally honest, not much. There's been so much going on in the League and stuff. But uh... I decided I don't really want to leave the state."

She nodded. "Actually, I kinda figured that." Wendy released something of a resigned sigh, and it drew his attention to her face. She looked conflicted. "My parents want me to attend an Ivy League school. Actually my mom is pretty dead-set on it, but my dad told me that I needed to be sure before I applied anywhere else that I wanted to give up the opportunity."

Stan paused a moment. "You... don't _want_ to go to an Ivy League school?" he ventured cautiously.

Wendy sighed again, almost sadly. "That's just it, I really don't know. I know what I want to do, and really, I can get a good law degree here in the state, or hell even in any other state. It wouldn't be that hard. But the whole thing my parents are freaking out about is having the title there on my resume. So... ugh, I don't really know." He squeezed her hand comfortingly and she cast him a smile. "I know I've got a little time to figure it out but I have to get my school applications in by the end of the summer."

"Yeah..." he said and trailed off. "Coach said they're offering me a scholarship at both UC in Denver and at CSU in Fort Collins, so I guess I could go either way. I think I want to do something that makes a difference, you know? And it's kinda close to home, so Mom and Dad don't get real worried or whatever."

She nodded. "And being close to the League and the rest of the guys is a bonus," she added with a sly smile.

He chuckled. "That too."

They passed into comfortable silence, walking through town hand-in-hand, and the silence between them was worth a thousand words. It was easy, it was natural. It was exactly what Stan had always imagined when he'd been eight years old and spotted Wendy for the first time on the first day of third grade. Her startling gray eyes fixed on his dark blue ones. _I love you_ they said.

His smile was reply enough.

Stan shifted his eyes to the sky. Thunder was rumbling overhead. It was probably going to rain.

"Rain," said Wendy, mirroring his thoughts in her words. They were coming up on Stark's Pond, and stood on the dock, staring at the vast expanse of dark water before them. "Stan, I l-"

He dropped her hand and cupped his hand over her mouth in a single fluid movement. Those gray eyes locked on him, expressing the hurt and confusion that washed over them. He raised his free hand and placed one finger over his lips and then pointed. Her eyes shifted curiously, and finally caught what he'd silenced her for. Not too far off, Professor Chaos and General Disarray were very clearly up to something. And they weren't alone.

Stan dropped his hands and motioned for her to follow. She did with a nod, and without a glance back, he slipped into stealth mode. They hurried behind a large oak, but they weren't close enough to hear what was being said between the two self-proclaimed "villains" and the two strange men that accompanied them. Stan narrowed his eyes and jerked his head towards a cluster of bushes that conveniently sat just feet away from the small clearing where the gathering stood. Wendy nodded, and without a sound, the two flitted like shadows, keeping low and out of sight, until they had arrived at the bushes. They were close enough, only just, to hear the conversation.

Professor Chaos, who was Butters' alter-ego "super villain", was hardly what anyone in the League would call a villain. Hell, the god damn _Coon_ was probably more of a threat than Professor Chaos and his young lackey, General Disarray. Their plans, while often proclaimed to be grand and elaborate, often fell through due to Butters' obvious lack of confidence, or shyness, or even because he realized part-way through that he didn't really want to hurt anyone. Chaos was an outlet for Butters to project his frustrations. Despite his overwhelming outward cheer and upbeat attitude, he really had difficulty expressing pain, frustration, and anger. And that was where Professor Chaos came in. Where Butters was shy, happy and consistently kind-hearted, Chaos was quite the opposite. Or at least, Butters thought he was. But the projection of Chaos was essentially just Butters' way of doing what other people did in a single rant or conversation, and once the need to vent was satisfied, would just as quickly retreat back into Butters' imagination.

And unless Chaos had teamed up with the Coon, his plans almost always were just as tame as could be imagined.

This was different though. The Coon, or Cartman anyway, was safely muttering insanely to himself back in town. The two men accompanying the boys, though, looked quite suspect any way you looked at it.

One of them, who Stan recognized instantly despite not actually knowing his name, solidified his suspicions of Wednesday night in Stan's mind: it was the tall man in the white suit, who was far too over-dressed for a shadowy meeting in the woods near the pond.

The other he didn't recognize, but not because of his face. It was actually the fact that Stan couldn't _see _his face, in part due to the deep hood that was drawn up over his head, and because of the shadows of the surrounding trees. He was wearing the black-robed garb common of a cultist, but it was different from what Stan recalled of the Cthulhu cult. Namely in that he was wearing white gloves and a bright red string tied around his waist as a belt. There was a medallion hanging around the man's neck but it was too far off to see what was engraved upon it.

In any case, even if he wasn't part of the Cult of Cthulhu, he was definitely up to something shady.

"So, I hear you boys took our advice and picked up the book," the shadow man said. "That's excellent." The man in the white suit didn't say anything at all, he just simply stood and stared between the shadow man and the two boys.

"Yeah, we've got the book." That voice obviously belonged to General Disarray. "Are you going to hold up your end of the deal?"

The shadow man looked affronted. "Of course! But you have not completed your half of our contract in its entirety."

"You told us to get the book!" Chaos protested. "We got the book."

"Yes, and you did a fantastic job. _However_ there is one last thing you must do before you receive your payment."

"What?" Chaos and Disarray exchanged perplexed looks.

"There is a specific passage that I require one of you to read for me. It is imperative that you do this before you receive _any_ of your payment."

The boys exchanged another look. Stan narrowed his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the book itself, but he couldn't see it. Either they were hiding it, or it was out of his line of sight. The shadow man went on. "So, are you prepared to read the passage?" The rain began to fall.

Chaos eyed him suspiciously. "Well I guess that all depends," he replied. "This isn't gonna do anything bad to us, will it?"

"No of course not," the shadow man said dismissively. "Now, if you would please show me the book, I will show you where to read."

After a few moments of thought, and some apparent whispers between himself and Disarray, Chaos conceded. "Fine." He produced the book, which he'd been hiding in his long green cape. It was large, very large for a book, and Stan had to wonder how Chaos had concealed it so well. It was bound in worn brown leather, and even from where he was crouched, Stan could see faded gold lettering on the worn spine. And from all appearances, it was _old_. Older than any book he'd ever laid eyes on. The shadow man stepped forward and turned to the page he desired, pointed out a specific passage, and stepped back once again.

"Please read the paragraph, _Professor_."

Stan's eyes narrowed and he leaned as close as he could without making any sound.

The man in the white suit leaned forward suddenly and whispered something into the shadow man's ear. Though invisible, his face probably matched the subtle rage that ticked in his voice as he spoke. "Hold," he said, just as Chaos opened his mouth to read. "We are not alone here."

_Shit_ was the only thing Stan had the time to think. White suit pointed to exactly where he and Wendy were concealed, and the shadow man produced a gun from within his black robes, took aim, and fired it.

"_Let's go!_" Stan hissed, grabbed Wendy's hand, and bolted out from behind the bushes.

"Eavesdroppers must be eliminated!" the shadow man snarled, firing the gun several more times. The bullets impacted the trees, and Stan and Wendy sprinted as fast as their legs would allow.

"W-what the heck are you doing!?" Stan distantly heard Chaos shout at the shadow man, but he'd already given chase after the pair of listeners.

"Hurry!" Wendy whispered desperately, clinging hard to Stan's hand. They set off through the trees at a dead run, their pursuer not far behind.

Even through the rain, which steadily poured heavily through the trees, they could hear him shouting a slew of curses at them. "Come back here you bastards!" he roared. Bullets impacted the trees around them, but they kept running. They sprinted by the dock and towards the road. Once there Stan's stomach lurched. They were out in the open. They'd have to get around the corner fast, because the road was wide open, and they would be easy targets.

Stan's heart was thundering in his chest, while actual thunder was rumbling in the sky. The rain fell harder.

He heard the shadow man break through the line of trees behind them. He ventured a glance over his shoulder. The gun was coming up again.

"GO!" Stan shouted and pulled Wendy with all his might. The gun went off and echoed off the walls with a loud _CRACK!_ The bullet barely grazed Stan's right arm, but he couldn't give a shit less. He had to make it to the building. Once they got around the building, they could lose the man.

The gun went off again, but the shot was too wide. The bullet embedded into the cement of the building as they sprinted along side it.

Stan's heart leaped in his chest. They rounded the corner and hopped over the fence of the Home Depot parking lot, and ducked behind a massive stack of wood.

They were safe, if only for the moment.

He clung Wendy to his chest, heart still pounding. He could feel that hers was too. They crouched there, concealed, and waited.

Seconds dragged by. Minutes passed, and still they waited. An hour passed. The rain poured ever harder. Even through the thunder, Stan picked up the sound of a gunshot off in the distance, somewhere towards the middle of town. He swallowed hard. "I think we should go straight to the base," he whispered to Wendy. She nodded against his chest.

"Yeah," was her soft reply. She rose her eyes to his, and determination took place of the fear. It was a mission now. They had to get to base. They both stood, now completely soaked, and walked casually from behind the stack of wood. "I left my wire in my car, let's swing by your house and we'll drive there." She nodded in reply and they set off through town again, peering around cautiously. There weren't many people out and about, and the few that were moved quickly, carrying large umbrellas and expressions of worry. They picked up the pace to a jog, until they arrived at Wendy's house. Without stopping to even change, they piled into Stan's car and set off.

_-x-0-x-_

It was nice that the base was mostly empty, except for Ike and Timmy when they arrived. Stan parked the car in the garage and closed the camouflaged door, and together he and Wendy slipped into the base. An old, dark and empty warehouse would usually make one feel a sense of overwhelming fear or even caution, but the base was different. Inside it was a sanctuary, a safe haven, no matter how dark it was. They always felt safe here, in the home of the League of Heroes.

They descended the stairs to check the meeting room first, where they found Ike sitting in his usual place, scrolling through something on his computer. Timmy was near one of the monitoring stations, apparently immersed in some data on the screen. Ike glanced up and smiled, but it faded. "What's wrong with your arm, buddy? And you two are soaked, you guys alright?"

Only when mentioned did his arm start to throb. "I uh... mighta gotten shot," he said uncertainly, peering down at the place where the skin was ripped. The shot was really on a graze, but it hurt like hell anyway. Stan had been shot once before, during a fucked up situation with PETA and the assholes running "Vote or Die" but he remembered that one hurting much worse. Then again, he was nine years old at the time.

Wendy's face was alarmed. She sped around to the other side of him and quickly tore part of her shirt off to wrap the wound. "Yeah uh, we're good, but we saw something over by the pond," she said absently, her eyes fixed on his arm.

"Let's change and put some real bandages on it," Stan laughed. "Your wet clothes are great but we _are_ in the base."

"Oh... right, yeah, okay then. We'll be upstairs."

Ike waved them off. "Just don't be too loud," he said with a smirk and went back to work on his laptop.

Stan rolled his eyes and they ascended the stairs once again, making their way to the barracks. Stan and Wendy both had a bunk, like everyone, but Wendy got her own, as in, she didn't have to share. As the only girl in the league, she had also sort of touched up the place and made it a little more like a home away from home. Each bunk had next to it a set of what was essentially wardrobes, only missing any of the flare or style. They were purely functional. Everyone had towels, essential toiletries, and at the very least two spare changes of street clothes, in addition to the gear they stored. The room itself was lit by warm light. They had discussed at some point dividing the floor up into separate rooms, but the project would require a lot of money and time. Kenny suggested it as a good summer project, but they had never gotten around to it.

As soon as they reached the landing and were certain they were alone, they collapsed against the wall. Stan's heart was still thundering in his chest. "That was fucking unbelievable," he said, pulling her into a tight hug. Her hands gripped his shoulders and he winced in spite of himself. She drew her hand back to see his blood was covering her finger tips. "Ah damn it," he groaned.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Okay, get dry and dressed. Then let me have a look at that," she said, her tone resolute, in a way that told him it was absolutely not open for discussion.

The pair dried off and changed into clean, dry clothes, then Wendy set to work cleaning and dressing the ugly wound in his right arm. Her fingers were deft and gentle. "I can't believe you got shot," she murmured. He said nothing, instead opting to sit in silence and watch as her fingers practically danced over the torn flesh and cleaned away the blood and grime from the rain and their trek through the woods by the pond. She finished cleaning the wound and set to work wrapping it with gauze, which she secured in place with a few strips of medical tape. When she was satisfied she leaned back to observe her handiwork, then flicked her eyes up to Stan's.

He smiled gratefully and leaned forward to brush his lips against her forehead. "Thanks Wendy."

She pursed her lips. "You don't need to thank me. You _also_ don't need to get _shot_."

"I'll try to remember that," he said through a sheepish grin.

The sounds of others coming through the front door reached them. The meeting was set to start soon. Once finished they made their way downstairs together, where Ike and Timmy had been joined by Christophe, Token, and Clyde. They were all a little wet, but not as drenched and Stan and Wendy had been. "Hey guys," Stan greeted as they entered the meeting room.

"Hey, what happened to your arm?" Token asked as he took his seat beside Christophe.

"I'll get to that once everyone gets here, we saw something um..."

"Unexpected," Wendy supplied.

"Yeah."

"Well, I assume it 'ad something to do with a gun," Christophe smirked, once again chewing on an unlit cigar. He wasn't allowed to smoke in the meeting room, much to his annoyance.

"You could say that. Where's Human Kite and Mysterion?" They were in the base, so code names were always required, even if they were out of uniform.

Ike shook his head. "No word yet. Kite said they ran into some trouble with Cartman and he had to evacuate some workers off a construction site."

"Cartman? You mean the Coon?" Clyde asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Nope, it was Cartman as himself. He didn't elaborate much, said he'd check in with details soon."

Stan furrowed his brow. That didn't sound good. "Okay, well let's get straight into it, and we'll recap for them once they get here."

"Sounds good."

Wendy took her seat beside Stan's empty chair, on the other side of Token, and nodded for him to proceed. "I'll let Stan take the floor."

He did, moving over to the massive whiteboard that stood behind Mysterion's empty chair. The world _CULT_ was still written upon it, and Stan added three bullet points beneath it. Beside the first one he wrote the words _White Suit_. The second he wrote _CHAOS_, and next to the third was written the word _BOOK_.

"So let's get started. Wendy and I picked up on something that _could_ be related to the murder-suicide." The other members at the table glanced around uneasily at one another. "Wendy and I were walking out by Stark's Pond, and we spotted Professor Chaos and General Disarray talking to the guy in the White Suit. The same guy that was whispering to Yates at the crime scene on Wednesday. They were talking to him," he said, then pointed to the written word _CULT_, "and someone who looked an awful fucking lot like a cult member."

"Did you see the face by chance?" Clyde asked. Stan shook his head.

"Wish we did. He was wearing the same kind of robe as the cult members that were involved in the Gulf Crisis, but he had on a red cord and some medallion. I didn't get a good look at it, or his face on account of his hood." He glanced at Wendy and she shook her head, indicated that she hadn't either. "Anyway, from the sounds of it, Chaos and Disarray were contracted into getting ahold of something for the cult, or at the very least, the cult member we saw and Mr. White Suit. They somehow got a hold of a book."

"An _old_ book," Wendy added.

"Right, and earlier today, Human Kite mentioned something about a break-in at a museum in Fort Collins. The only thing stolen was an old book. He wanted to have Chaos read something out of it but apparently we were spotted."

"God knows how, there's no way they could see us through those bushes."

"But White Suit apparently _knew_ we were there. The cultist though... jeez he lost his damn mind. When White Suit pointed us out the guy pulled out a gun and fucking _shot at us_. He actually grazed my arm." Stan gestured to the place where Wendy had wrapped his arm in thick medical gauze and tape. "So whatever Chaos was going to read, he didn't want anyone else hearing or finding out about it. I'd venture a guess that he didn't intend to let us go alive."

"Did he see your faces?" Ike questioned cautiously. It was a valid question. If the strange cult man had seen either one of them, and he really didn't want them to get away alive, their lives would have been in mortal peril. Stan shook his head.

"No, I don't think so. But still, if this guy was willing to kill us over what we heard, I wager a guess that it's huge."

The other members chewed on the information for a moment. The sheer level of what they stood on, the facts and the mysteries that surrounded it all, was a little overwhelming. Heidi's strange words had been confusing enough, but now... well, what the fuck? They were heroes, and Stan knew that even if the others were a little doubtful, they'd pull through. He was a born optimist. Sure, his bright outlook sometimes caused him some measure of depression when really bad things happened, but overall, he was usually the one who saw the bright side. Even this, despite the massive darkness that loomed ahead of them, he knew they would pull through.

The silence persisted for a few moments longer as the facts of everything sank in. "So I think we need to start looking at what we have and see if we can pick up connections. It's all really fucking strange though, I'm still not sure where to start."

"'Zat is indeed strange," Christophe said after a short period of silence. "So, 'zis White Suit fellow is linked at 'zee very least to both 'ze murder-suicide and 'zee Cult, if in fact he is apart of 'zee same cult as before."

"Right."

"Damn, this whole thing stinks to high heaven," Token said, narrowing his own eyes as he thought. "They're _obviously_ linked. No question about it."

Stan nodded. "We just really don't know how."

Ike cleared his throat, and Stan sat to allow him the floor to speak. "Timmy and I picked something up from the feed."

"Timmeh!"

"And we _think_ it could be helpful," he went on, until banging from the floor above cut him off. The thunderous sounds of people coming through the front door vibrated the ceiling. "Oh good, Kite and Mysterion are here."

Mysterion, the leader of the League. The shadowy alter ego of Kenny McCormick, and the two were like night and day. Kenny, one of Stan's closest friends since the boys were toddlers, was an upbeat guy. He was a bit of a... well, a man whore, but it wasn't really his biggest defining quality. It wasn't like he slept around _all the time_ or anything, he just really liked sex, and he was really bad at holding down a girlfriend. He'd tried a few times, but Stan could tell he was holding out for something, or someone. Kenny claimed that it was just the lack of time, having the League, and school, and his job, but Stan was pretty intuitive. Of the three of them, Stan Kyle and Kenny, he could just pick things up better that dealt with human emotion.

But Mysterion was different... and yet at the same time, they were strikingly similar. Where Kenny was upbeat, outgoing and sometimes a bit shameless, Mysterion was consistently even-speaking, thoughtful, and somewhat dark. His voice contrasted with Kenny's in that he affected a deep growl almost. He was the darker side of Kenny, who saw the world's pain and horror, and strove to right all the wrongs. He led without fail, he would sacrifice everything if he could. And that was where Stan could see how Mysterion and Kenny were always one and the same. Kenny would give everything for his friends, his team, and the people who needed him. And so would Mysterion.

They only had to wait a moment for the pair to come through the door. Mysterion came first. He was a bit drenched, but his dark purple, hooded cape (which was water-repellant) had shielded him from most of the rain. The front of his shirt that bore the bright green M was splattered with blood and there was a hole, but the skin beneath it was undamaged. That didn't stop everyone at the table from standing in concern.

"Dude what happened?" Stan asked quickly. Mysterion grinned and waved the question off.

"It's nothing, no worries," he replied, carefully avoiding the obvious, unasked question of the blood on his shirt. He pulled off his hood and shook the water droplets from his shaggy blonde hair, then strode to take his seat.

Kite came in next. He was uninjured, but he carried a look of uncertainty and distrust on his face. He'd pulled off his hood and his goggles hung loosely around his neck. "Hey guys," he greeted them and moved in through the door to take his seat on the other side of Stan.

The next person to enter was...

"Cartman?" the entire table, sans Mysterion and Kite, all questioned in vocal unison. Sure enough, the wide-set loudmouth shuffled through the doorway, almost completely drenched and looking a bit ashamed, which was definitely a new look for Cartman. His pasty, disheveled appearance had lessened somewhat, and the pallor had returned to his skin. Even still, his eyes were rimmed in shadow from lack of sleep. He was staring questioningly at Mysterion, who simply nodded, as if to say _hurry up and get in here_. And he did, stepping awkwardly to the room, and taking one of the several empty chairs present around the massive round table, seated to the right of Clyde, who couldn't help but stare at him.

Wendy blinked several times. "Um... Mysterion?" Her eyes shot to Cartman and back to their leader. Her face read, _Seriously?_

He leaned forward in the chair and folded his hands on the table in front of him. "I will explain, I promise. First let's get a recap going, and I'll add to it. I promise it'll be worthwhile." The entire group gave him incredulous looks, shifting between him, the drenched and out of place Cartman, and Human Kite, who sat in his chair with his arms folded, wearing an expression that simply read _don't ask._ They stared for several long minutes, until finally, they all reached a general consensus.

Mumbled and bewildered agreements went around the table and Stan got up again, took a deep breath, and started to explain what happened at the lake.

* * *

_Author's Notes: It may not be evident yet, since he hasn't done anything huge so far, but I love writing for Christophe. His personality is so much fun, and he'll get more "screen time" in later chapters._

_So anyway, I actually wrote this chapter faster than I anticipated. I had it written about four days earlier than scheduled so I went ahead and started working on the next one. I'm giving fair warning though, chapter five is going to be very, very  weird. It might be a little hard to follow, but it will be well worth the read. You'll see what I mean next week.  
_

_It's a bit of an early update but I didn't think anyone would mind. After Arc 1 though, the rate will probably settle into a regular weekly update. I'll probably pick an actual day to do it, but right now I'll just go with it as they come out.  
_

_As always, thank you for the kind reviews, favorites and follows. Sapphire especially, your reviews make my week. Thanks so much. See everyone next week!  
_


	5. Staring Down the Barrel

**South Park - The Voices Beneath**

* * *

**Disclaimer: South Park and all related characters and ideas are (c) Matt Stone and Trey Parker; other copyrighted characters and ideas are property of their respective license holders. Any original content, plot ideas, etc. are of my own work and not being used for profit. **

**The following story will contain strong language, adult themes, bad puns and copious amounts of unadulterated insanity.**

**Enter at your own risk.**

* * *

**Arc 1 -MEMENTO MORI**

* * *

Who am I? Well, let me just tell you, I'm the best fucking superhero you've ever seen. I am the watchful eye on a city filled with crime, I am the guardian who reaches out to save her. I am... I _was_ the one lone hero standing against a League filled with villains. The last defense against evil.

I am the Coon.

I'm also Eric T. Cartman. I'm sixteen, I'm buff and big boned, I'm the most popular guy in school, and...

Fuck I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. Okay see, no one gets to know about this. But I think I'm starting to lose it. Some of my words aren't _my_ words, you know? Like... stuff comes out and ten seconds later, I can't even remember thinking the words. And then the thoughts, the spasms, the fucking nightmares... ugh, it's a lot to handle.

But whatever, that's not important yet. It'll be important later, but not right now. Everyone else has a story and a moral, so it's my fucking turn.

So let me start with the very beginning. Not like "the earth was born blah blah blah" kind of shit. I mean the beginning of the Coon. And really, the beginning of the super clique. It started like eight years ago. The first time the Coon made his appearance was in the dead of night. After seeing my town so fucked up (and after watching Batman, which was fuckin' sweet) I decided I had to be the symbol the town needed. So I became the Coon. People loved me, but they tried not to show it. I was a hero, and everyone knew it. Then Mysterion showed up and fucked everything up. I knew I had to get him out of the way. And after tricking Professor Chaos into working with me, my plan went off without a hitch. I used my awesome manipulation to persuade Mysterion to unmask himself, and he totally did. Right in front of a crowd of people.

Actually, that's not totally true. The first time Mysterion revealed himself, it actually wasn't him. I guess that fucker figured out I was trying to unmask him and asked the stupid Jew to help him, so really, no one knew who he was. Still. It was fucking retarded.

But anyway. About three months later, I got the AMAZING idea to start up a superhero group, so Mysterion could stop stealing my fucking spotlight... erm... I mean so we heroes could keep the city safe together. So I started the group Coon and Friends and invited all the superheroes from the neighborhood. The day of our first meeting was the day I found out who Mysterion really was. I guess I shoulda known, but it was still kinda surprising anyway. Cuz like, for the whole three months before that, I'd been ripping on Kyle for being a faggy superhero and trying to steal my gig. And the whole fucking time, Kyle would just sit there with Stan and Kenny, and they'd all fucking _laugh_! It was annoying.

And then the first meeting of Coon and Friends rolled around, and Kyle showed up dressed in blue with a fucking gay-ass kite strapped to his back, and at the same time, Mysterion was there. He was wearing some stoic hero face, and I demanded he take his fucking mask off. Cuz that little bitch, he wormed out of showing his face! And how the fuck did no one remember that?

So he did, and lo and behold, it was fucking _Kenny_. Kenny, the quiet, horny, poor as shit kid in the orange parka. Fucking Kenny.

But whatever, I got over it, and we set to work saving the world. Well at the time it was super small-time shit, saving rape victims, thwarting robbers, whatever. We were fuckin' _awesome_. Or I thought we were. But then like, the Gulf Crisis happened, and that stupid butthole Captain Hindsight started stealing _all_ our fucking spotlight! What a dick. And then my friends turned evil and kicked me out of the group... Well anyway, everyone knows what happened in the Gulf Crisis. Cthulhu was banished back to the Nightmare City, and Coon and Friends let me back in. We changed the name like six months later to Extreme Avenger League. Which, by the way, was not my idea. I thought it was a faggy name, but what the fuck ever.

So we kept on like that for a few years. Everyone just knew that we were the most awesome superhero group ever, and we rolled with it. I was the leader, seriously. Just that Mysterion would fuckin' make calls and everyone listened, which was fucking annoying. But whatever. I rolled with it. And then came a situation with a guy who called himself Eraser. He was a stupid kind of villain, worked with bombs and didn't stick around to make sure they went off, shit like that. So Mysterion said that he, Tupperware, Human Kite, and Toolshed were gonna handle it. But that was _bullshit_ cuz they all know I'm the one that should be out there! People know the Coon, the Coon is a symbol to rally behind so why the fuck wouldn't I go? So obviously I went after they left.

I guess I got there too late, cuz Toolshed fucked up or something when he was dismantling the bomb and the building exploded. I dunno, Mysterion was fuckin' pissed that I was there, but who fuckin' cares? At least I showed up when I was needed. So anyway I started fighting the guy, and he got real pissed off about it cuz he was _obviously_ losing. And can you believe it? That bitch pulled a gun on me!

And... this is where I start losing my head a little. Because I _remember_ it happening, but in two different ways. Okay so I gotta explain this, it's fuckin' trippy.

Ever since we were kids, stuff would happen. Like, really weird shit happens in South Park. The weirdest shit was actually the stuff that happened to us where Kenny would be there... and then at the same time, my brain tries to tell me he wasn't. I remember stuff both ways. It's fuckin' weird. Anyway, I do know for a fuckin' fact that Kenny is immortal. The very first time I remember that he "died" (I dunno what the fuck to call it, the whole thing is screwed up) I remember it happening with Kyle's bitch mom going crazy and trying to have Terrance and Phillip killed. But see, she also wanted to censor stuff so kids couldn't swear, and had me implanted with this fucking thing called a V-chip. But the chip went haywire when I tried to turn off the electric chairs and it fucked up the wiring in my brain, see? So even though they took it out, I could still see and do stuff that didn't work before the chip.

Specifically, I could remember all the times Kenny died. So let me get back to remembering it in two ways, and to the issue with the Eraser fag. He pulled the gun on me, and that's where I remember things weird. On the one hand, I clearly remember Mysterion jumping in front of the gun and the gun going off. And then he dropped dead, and... my memory is a little hazy there. But then there's the other way. I remember seeing the gun, and then Mysterion sort of... vanished. The next thing I saw was Toolshed hurling a wrench at the guy's face and knocking him out cold, and Toolshed and Kite couldn't even remember what happened. It was fucking weird. And that's not the only time, too. It's like I have a whole bunch of shit shoved up into my head and it's really fucked up.

But I'm so awesome that I just deal with it.

Or I was able to. Cuz like, I could just ignore it or whatever, or use it when I needed it, and no one else had to know. It was pretty fuckin' sweet. Then something happened, and it's like all the stuff in my head, the double memories and shit... they're like... melting _together_. So yeah... I dunno anymore.

* * *

**Staring Down the Barrel...**

* * *

It wasn't just Wednesday that was weird. Eric Cartman had noticed the signs, but as usual, he really didn't care. He woke as normal on Wednesday, and went through the day as he usually would. He was, however, still pretty sore, and in more ways than one. Aside from actually being physically sore from his confrontation on the roof of the mall the night before, his pride was a bit wounded as well. The day passed normally enough though, except for the creepy shit with Heidi staring at him during their study group at Token's house. And he went home, ate dinner, bitched to his mother, and went to sleep as he normally did too. Nothing at all out of the ordinary.**  
**

Thursday though... Thursday was doomed to be fucked right up from the very start. As soon as Eric woke up that morning, he just _knew_ that the whole damn day was going to suck beyond all comprehensible reason. Just from the gut feeling that sat heavily in the pit of his stomach, like eating too much chicken skin, except that he didn't need to spend four hours sitting on the toilet. He rolled out of bed once his mother knocked on the door, her soft, crooning voice announcing to him that it was time to get up and eat breakfast before school.

Perhaps it was the nightmares, or maybe just the ominous feeling in his gut, but Eric really, _really_ didn't want to have to attend school that day. He didn't know why. Now Cartman didn't really like attending school on a normal day anyway, but enjoyed it simply because of his self-imposed popularity. He was _awesome_ and no one could deny it. Or really, no one tried or cared to deny it because Cartman would either go off the handle on them, or cause bad things to happen to them. He was really great at that.

He showered, dressed, and shuffled down the stairs to eat breakfast, where his mother had already laid out the spread on the table. Eric had an appetite to match his girth, and was quite plainly hungry all the time. Of course he would only say that his appetite was in due to his _huge_ metabolism and that if he didn't eat, he'd lose his buffness. Whatever, he was just hungry. He set in and rapidly ate, clearing his plate in minutes, then waddled off to grab his backpack and head off through the door.

"Thanks Mom," he said flatly and made for the door.

"Don't forget you have school tomorrow too, muffin, so don't stay out too late tonight!" she called after him in her fluttery voice.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah, I know Mom. Jeez." With that he shuffled out the door. It was still fairly nice out, as nice as can be expected of June in the Colorado mountains. He waddled his way down the front walk from his house and to the sidewalk, where he started the short trek between his house and the bus stop where his ride picked up he and the other two friends that waited there as well. They had been meeting at the bus stop for years, but only since Stan had turned sixteen did they stop having to actually take the bus. Cartman smirked to himself. Just as further proof that he was better than everyone else, _especially_ Kyle, he had his own fantastic car. Granted the superintendent of the schools (formerly the principle of South Park Elementary) had strictly forbade him from driving his car to school, but just the fact that he had it made him just badass in its own right.

As he walked though, his mind revolving around the car he had that was parked in the garage at home, something, or rather someone, caught his attention.

"Butters?" he murmured to himself. Indeed it was, but Butters had a look on his face that was shifty as all get out. _He must be up to something._ Cartman glanced left, then right, then pushed himself into stealth mode. Despite his size, he could be quick and silent if he really wanted. So he crept along behind the blond-haired boy, keeping his eyes fixed on him, careful not to lose sight of him. Butters glanced around, but didn't seem to think he was being followed, then rounded the corner, disappearing behind the fence and into the alley behind the row of houses. Cartman followed.

Butters was joined by Dougie. The younger ginger kid wore an expression akin to worry, but it was something more than that. Doubt? Cartman couldn't tell, but continued to follow all the same.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? That Johnson guy said he wanted to wait to meet tomorrow by the pond. Why are we meeting with the Havoc guy behind Johnson's back?"

Butters looked uncertain of himself. "I don't think we have a choice," he said in his stuttering southern drawl. "Besides, I feel like Havoc is a _lot_ more trustworthy than Mr. Johnson is. I respect their whole cult design and bringing about chaos and stuff but he's just a little bit... well, shady I guess."

Dougie nodded. "Doesn't help that he won't even show us his face. Still, I don't think either one of them is all that trustworthy."

Butters glanced around nervously. "That doesn't matter. We just have to talk to Mr. Havoc, give Johnson the book, and then we get paid. It'll be great, we'll have enough money to take a trip this summer! We can even go to that awesome summer camp."

That statement sent Cartman spiraling into confusion. Since when the hell was Butters into doing jobs? And more, since when the hell did Chaos even get paid for his "evil schemes"? He crouched lower and got closer, then peered at his watch. He still had a good few minutes before he needed to leave. Stan wouldn't even show up at the stop for another twenty minutes at the least, so he could listen a little longer. And he _needed_ to know what the fuck Butters-slash-Chaos was up to.

Dougie nodded. "Yeah... yeah I guess. I dunno though, I think we should watch our backs-"

"Good morning, boys."

Cartman felt his insides squirm. There was something seriously fucked up about that voice. He didn't recognize it, not in all of his incredible memory. It didn't register as even remotely familiar, and yet somehow, it felt like something he'd forgotten. It felt like the nagging feeling at the back of his brain that he was missing something important. It felt like his insides were heavy, like something he'd consigned to oblivion and could not for the very life of him recall.

And at the same time, it just felt completely and unequivocally _wrong_. Wrong like he'd swallowed acid and his stomach was dissolving. Wrong like there were spiders in his ears. Wrong like the buzzing of a million invisible wasps. Wrong like...

His vision blurred for a moment, but he forced himself to recover. He _had_ to know. Who the fuck was speaking?

With caution, he leaned forward, just enough to see the rest of the alley. He could still see Butters. His face had twisted into a look of extreme apprehension.  
Dougie's face was plastered with a mix of down-right terror and the need to run, but his feet were firmly planted on the ground. He stood behind Butters, who was a good deal taller, and peered around the older boy's shoulder.

"G-g-good morning, Mr. Havoc," Butters stammered. "You... you wanted to see us?"

The owner of the aberrant voice stepped into view. Tall and intimidating, wearing a crisp white suit, with olive skin, slick black hair, and walking with a cane. Cartman couldn't see his face. "Yes, I did. Thank you for meeting me here." Then everything went black.

_-x-0-x-_

Cartman regained his senses sometime later. It had maybe been five minutes, but it felt like hours he'd been lost in the black abyss of his own mind. In spite of that, when he came back to himself, he was walking. He approached the bus stop in great confusion. How had he gotten this far? And just when the hell had he left the alley?

The alley. That was something in itself that was giving him a throbbing headache. Every time he tried to fix his thoughts on Butters and Dougie and the strange man known only as Mr. Havoc, he felt his vision turn to static for a second and he'd forget all about what the fuck he was doing. Except that he was still completely aware of it. It was pretty unnerving, and irritating at the same time. He arrived at the stop second that day, Kyle arriving first as was normal. Cartman grunted his greeting upon his approach, and stood there quietly.

His vision turned to static for a brief second. _Twitch_. He hardly noticed. Apparently neither did Kyle.

They stood there in awkward silence for a good five minutes before Kenny arrived. Kyle shifted to fix his eyes on their approaching friend in the orange hoodie.

"Hey dude," Kyle said amiably as Kenny stepped up onto the curb.

"Morning guys," Kenny replied.

"So did you sleep last night?" Kyle asked. Cartman rose one eyebrow, staring between the two as they conversed.

Kenny exhaustedly replied, "If I hadn't been completely fuckin' wiped out I wouldn't have, but yeah I did."

"I don't blame you. I ended up taking some freaking NyQuil to put me to sleep!" Kyle's face was somber.

_Twitch_.

"The fuck are you talkin' about?" Cartman demanded. He didn't like it when people talked circles around him, _especially_ when it was Kyle. The other two boys exchanged looks and Kenny rolled his eyes.

"So you haven't heard, I'm guessing?"

"Heard what?" Cartman asked irritably.

"About Heidi, dude," Kyle said. Cartman stared at him, incredulity plastered on his face, searching with every piece of him for some sort of sarcasm on Kyle's visage. He found none.

"What about 'er?"

Kenny and Kyle exchanged glances of unease. "She's dead, dude."

Cartman stared at the pair of them, one eyebrow quirked. "What?"

_Twitch_.

"Last night, at the mall. She stabbed herself."

He was silent, staring, utterly shocked. Stabbed herself? Since when the fuck would Heidi Turner stab herself? She wasn't one of those stupid emo bitches who hated themselves, or one of those annoying goths that hated life and everything else. Heidi was a cheerleader. She was a popular kid. She was... she was Heidi. "No fuckin' way. You two are bullshitting me."

_Twitch_.

Hissing distracted his attention. Stan's car was pulling up.

"Morning guys," Stan said, very clearly exhausted.

Cartman slid into the back seat, and Kenny climbed in after him. "You look like shit, dude," Kenny remarked.

"Didn't sleep much, I was trying to console Wendy. She uh... she wasn't holding up real well after the meeting. She's better now, but it took some time to calm her down."

But Cartman wasn't listening anymore. His vision had turned to static and the rest of the conversation, if there was any to be heard, fell away to the roaring sound of his own mind.

_Darkness darkness darkness_

I don't understand. The man with the voice... the havoc... Mr. Havoc? Professor... Chaos? Butters.

_Fuck I need to keep my head straight. I can't fucking concentrate. God damn it!_

Shit. I can't remember. What was Havoc saying? Who the fuck was that guy in the white suit? What.. that voice.

_The voices beneath._

**the voices beneath**

_Pull it the fuck together!_

Follow the voices beneath. Follow the voices beneath. _Follow the voices beneath._

_-x-0-x-_

"_Good morning, students_," said the voice of the principle, a man who hated everyone and everything. He was really just an overgrown goth without all the makeup and cigarettes. "_As many of you know by now, one of our students was taken from us last night. We have been assured by the Park County Police that this tragic accident will be fully investigated. In the meantime I would like to halt the spread of rumors, and insist that while this event is indeed deeply upsetting, that students are encouraged to continue with their exams. Councilors are available if any student feels the need to discuss their feelings on the matter."_

Cartman blinked twice. When the fuck had he made it to class? He looked around quickly. He was there, seated in his usual place in History, a sheet of notes already on his desk and a pencil in his hand.

What. The. Fuck.

He blinked again and glanced to his right. Beside him sat Bradley. Not to be confused with Bradley Biggle, also known as Mintberry fucking Crunch. Bradley James, a shy young man with a mop of curly ash-blond hair, was one of Butters' friends. Close friends, actually. They'd been sent to a straight camp a few years back, during an incident that Cartman had screwed himself over with, something to do with a picture and... well, Cartman chose not to think about that.

Bradley was deep in conversation with Butters, who appeared to have forgotten about the morning's events. He hadn't know Cartman was there. And on top of that, he didn't appear at all affected like Eric was. The voice hadn't grated on his spine or whispered in the bottom of his brain. Or if it was, he was certainly not showing it.

_Twitch_.

Cartman watched him for a long time. _Come on you little bitch, slip_.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Irritated, Cartman cast a dour glare in Butters' direction and shifted his eyes to the left, where Kyle sat, tapping the eraser of his pencil on the desk, deep in thought. He was staring directly at the sheet of paper before him. He was paying absolutely no attention to either Cartman or Butters. Or really, anyone else for that matter. He was probably going over his notes in his head.

Or thinking about something Jewy. Whatever.

_Voices beneath voices beneath _BENEATH

Follow the voices beneath. _Follow the voices beneath_.

The slithering voices whispered in his ears again but he fought them off. Now was not the time for him to black out again, he needed to focus.

And he _really_ needed to pass this exam. If he got held back, well... no one would ever let him live it down.

"Hey Kyle," he whispered.

Kyle shot a sideways glare at him. "What?"

_Twitch_. "So I'm seriously, what happened last night?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "I'm not going to talk about that right now, especially not with you." His voice was clipped with annoyance.

Cartman crossed his arms. "Fine, whatever Jew," he spat, and turned his eyes on his desk.

The bell went off to signal the class to start and the teacher made her way to the front of the room. There were only two history teachers at South Park High, and Cartman unfortunately got stuck with the woman. She was bubbly, perky, and generally irritating as all fuck, and no matter how he tried the bitch would not break. Cartman prided himself on being able to break annoying teachers, but this woman... god, she had the patience of a god damn saint.

It annoyed him to no end.

Today he really didn't give a fuck. Any other day he might have seen it as his last chance to break the annoyingly chipper bitch, but he just couldn't focus. The whispering voices were almost deafening, the spiders in his ears crawling down his spine.

_Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch _Follow the voices beneath

_follow the voices beneath_

Static.

Spiders. Wasps. _Scratching_

whispers

Cartman blinked. He was... at his locker? When the fuck did that happen? He looked around then peered over at Kyle, who was stuffing his backpack into his locker. His eyes narrowed and he whirled around, confusion overtaking him. He didn't like this. Cartman didn't like when things were out of his control, and even less when _he_ was out of his own control. _Twitch_. Without any other option, he shrugged it off and set to work cramming his backpack into his own locker.

_Keep an even head_.

Kenny and Stan approached. They'd come from their own History class, and had been fortunate enough to have gotten the broken man instead of the annoyingly chipper bitch. Cartman fumed, and he didn't know why. Instead he chose to ignore it, and try to act as normal as possible.

"Dude I'm so hungry," he said. _Twitch_.

"You're always hungry, fatass," Kyle retorted and rolled his eyes.

"'Ay! Fuck you Kyle! I am not fat, I'm _big boned_!" Cartman snapped, probably a little louder than he'd intended, and slammed his locker door. Without another thought, he stalked off down the hallway, leaving Stan, Kyle, and Kenny behind in bewilderment.

Cartman spent the rest of lunch in the gym, a place no one would look for him. Part of him thought they might, but the rest of him knew they wouldn't, and honestly, he really didn't care. His mind was so full of buzzing, flickering and static it was hard to keep his memories straight.

_Bullet through the chest fall down dead_

I CAN HEAR THE SCREAMS

_the darkness shall rise from the deep  
_

_Something is wrong someone is dying but I can't see or hear or...  
_

_theendlessunholyscreaming ohpleasegodmakeitstop  
_

Cartman blinked. He was sitting at a desk. His desk, in the next class... German class? When the fuck had this happened? He couldn't remember walking here. He couldn't remember even finishing his food, but he didn't feel famished anymore so he must have. Or maybe he'd lost his appetite? He didn't know.

And, with sudden clarity, he realized he didn't care.

The final bell rang and students took their seats. The exam began. German somehow came as naturally to Eric as his own native language. It was strange, but he felt a kinship with it. Probably because he was something of a racist... and a bigot... and an anti-Semite. But that wasn't wrong, he was just trying to push his ideal goals so that the world would be a better place. A place where everyone could be free to be just like him. They could all be just as cool.

He couldn't keep his head straight during the exam, but he knew he'd done well. Cartman didn't do great in some of his classes, but German was the exception. He was brilliant in German. So he finished first, turned in his test sheet, and made his way out of the room.

The whispering was back again, scratching at the insides of his skull, but he tried to ignore it. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't _need_ to hear it. Whatever they had to say, it could wait.

Students began to file into the halls. He made it to the lockers first, but he didn't move. He stood there, staring, as though transfixed, by the dial of his locker door.

_ohgodthescreamingisback pleasestopthescreaming_

Shadows from beneath, the voices of the deep that will call forth and swallow-

_the darkness shall rise from the deep the darkness shall rise from the deep the darkness shall rise from the deep_

And then the world will be awash in Nightmare and the Priest shall awaken to-

thedarknessshall risefromthedeep

_theEndisnigh_

_IMMORTAL SON, MY FLESH AND BLOOD_

The whispering Nightmare.

"Eric could you move? I need to get to my locker," Wendy's impatient voice cut in through the static. But he couldn't see her. Not the Wendy he was used to, but in her place was a shadow. A lucid nightmare.

_Twitch._ "FUCK YOU BITCH!" he shrieked, and she stared at him, dumbstruck. "Wait your FUCKING TURN!"

"What the hell is your problem?" she spat back.

_thewhisperingNIGHTMARE_

Cartman didn't know what he was doing. That is until he belted Wendy hard across the face. She went staggering into Stan.

He couldn't hear anything, just the buzzing and scratching of spiders in his ears. The spiders that crawled up his spine and spun their webs in his brain. Static was overtaking him. He felt his lips move, but his own words he couldn't hear. He wasn't sure he said anything at all.

And then Stan's knuckles crashed into his nose and shoved him right back out of the static. "Ow FUCK!" he sputtered through his hands, which he cupped over his rapidly bloodying face. "FUCK YOU STAN!"

He lunged at him. Fists went flying.

Then Kenny intervened, and his eyes were bright blue and intense.

The whispers could feel it, and they were screaming.

_IMMORTALSOUL VITAM AETERNUM MORTEM_

letdietheimmortalsoul

_the thing that should not be._

Kenny shoved him back, away from Stan and Wendy. A white sheet of paper was stuffed into his hand, but he couldn't hear anymore. The static was back. All he knew is that he had to leave, he had to get out of there and go home. And sleep.

And _think_.

So he turned and shuffled away. There was a tugging in the pit of his stomach and he looked at the sheet of paper.

Detention? _What the fuck_?

_-x-0-x-_

The rest of the day passed in relative disinterest. The whispers got louder but nothing terribly mind-shattering happened. So he attended detention, sitting as far away from Stan as he could possibly manage, then shuffled out of the room as quickly as possible. His mother was there to pick him up and drop him off, but she left as soon as he was out of the car. She worked two jobs and often only spent the evening with her son in order to coddle him and whatever else, but he didn't care tonight.

He couldn't even think straight tonight.

A million things were blending together in his head, a horrible caustic mixture of life and death swirling into an acidic vortex of disturbing psychosis. He had to stop thinking, stop remembering.

Because he knew for a fact that all of those deaths and happened, and that was why his brain was having such difficulty.

Orange, blond and blue. And blood. So much fucking blood. It was always everywhere. There was almost always blood.

Shredded. Torn. Burned. Flattened. Eaten. Shot. Ripped apart.

Murdered, more often than not.

_Mysterion. Kenny McCormick._

_THE IMMORTAL._

His thoughts were no longer solely his own. There was another there now, something that was causing the indomitable scratching at the insides of his skull. The whispers in his ears, the spiders crawling up his spine.

The darkness saw the Immortal live and the Immortal die, and the whispers were not pleased.

* * *

_He should not be. You must stop him, before he tries to harm you. He is not safe._

Who? Kenny? How? I don't understand.

_You must learn to understand. You must learn to see, to hear, and to be as Nightmare._

That doesn't make any fucking sense.

_It must._

Yeah well it doesn't. I don't know what the fuck that's supposed to mean.

_If you do not stop him, he will harm you. He wil__l kill you._

Okay fine, stop nagging me! Eesh, now what am I supposed to do?

_Trap him. Death is of no consequence to an Earthbound soul._

That the fuck does that mean?

_You already know what it means. You only need to stop fighting and come to acceptance. All will become clear.__  
_

* * *

The sun was rising. Eric didn't know how long he'd been sitting on his bed, but it was probably all damn night. He didn't know what was happening, to be quite honest, but he was beginning to feel the softest touches of fear. The whispering had subsided for the moment, but who the fuck knows how long that would last? He'd starting hearing it again and succumb to the static. He couldn't even maintain his normal thought pattern out of fear, so what the fuck was he now?

What had he become?

He stood from the bed where he was seated and told himself firmly that he was going to start the day. So he went to bathe. He dressed quickly and made his way downstairs, where Liane Cartman was already working on serving breakfast. He _had_ to act normal, so he had to try and force himself to eat. He would be himself and no whispers were going to make him into some wackjob fuck-up lunatic. With determination he sat down and ate as much as he could handle without nausea overtaking him and forcing him to stop.

Which, unfortunately, was far less than he usually consumed.

"What's the matter, hon?" his mother asked sweetly.

Eric swallowed hard. "I'm uh... just not hungry mom."

She looked alarmed. "Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?"

He blinked. "Uh... yeah, yeah I think I'm getting sick. But it's fine, I'll go to school and finish my tests and come home and sleep." His words were forced, hollow, but his mother didn't seem to notice. Satisfied she nodded and started to work clearing off the table and washing up the breakfast dishes, just like she always did. He had to try to anchor himself in the normalcy, try to overtake the aberrant whispers.

He would fucking win, damn it. He was _Eric T. Cartman_!

As soon as his mother was safely out of sight in the kitchen, he hastily threw on a jacket, pulled his hat down onto his head unceremoniously, and slung his bag onto his shoulder. Eric could hardly concentrate, let alone care about his appearance. He couldn't focus on the fact that he looked disheveled and pasty, just that he had to maintain his own mind.

_No more static. No more blackouts_. He had to try.

It was still very early in the morning. Early enough, in fact, that he didn't even want to stop at the bus stop. A nagging feeling in his gut told him it'd be a bad idea to try and catch a ride with Stan today. Something about a brawl and possibly punching Wendy... whatever, Stan was an asshole anyway. So maybe Eric had hit Wendy in the hallway, so what? She was a chick, chicks needed to be put in their place.

_Especially _Wendy.

He smirked to himself in self satisfaction as he walked, starting to feel a little more like himself with each passing minute. He nodded confidently to himself and puffed out his chest. And why the hell not? He was Eric Cartman, he had a right.

Then without warning someone collided with him. Eric's size allowed him to remain standing, but the other person went flying to the ground. He peered down. "What the fuck, Butters?" he spat.

Butters stood and brushed himself off. He'd chosen to wear a simple light blue sweater over a white t-shirt, paired with blue jeans. "Oh, hiya Eric!" he said brightly. Butters was always upbeat. He was naive and constantly happy, and that pissed Eric off to no end. Anyone that happy... ugh.

"Sorry I guess I wasn't watchin' where I was goin'."

Cartman stared him down. He wanted a hint, a sign, _something_ that said that Butters was enduring the same trauma. Eric would _not _ be the one fucking person who could lose his mind at the sound of a weird voice. That would be fucking bullshit.

But Butters betrayed nothing, only happiness. "I'm so glad school is just about done, I really want to have fun this summer! M-more fun than last summer."

Cartman smirked. The previous summer had been particularly terrible for Butters, only because his Grandmother had demanded she stay with them the whole time. Butters had sought refuge at the Cartman house many, _many_ times.

"That's nice, Butters," Eric replied with disinterest.

The rest of the walk to school went quickly. Butters yammered on and on about wanting to go to some "awesome" summer camp with this cool technology and all this other crap Eric didn't particularly care about. He nodded but said nothing, really tuning out most everything Butters said. It was sort of sad, to anyone viewing the relationship from the outside. Cartman honestly didn't give two fucks about Butters or his feelings. He did, however, enjoy using the poor boy as a pawn in his many schemes. That had lessened somewhat since Butters had made a few friends at school, but still he could occasionally be swayed to get in on whatever Cartman had planned.

There were no schemes today though. Just massing his own willpower to keep the whispers at bay.

He vaguely wondered if this is what crazy people felt like. But Eric wasn't crazy. He was just putting up with a setback, and he'd deal with it like he dealt with everything else. Ignore it until it left, or force it to go the fuck away.

He couldn't hear Butters anymore though. The static overwhelmed him, drowned out the sound. There was nothing else.

_You must find them. YOU MUST STOP THEM._

_IMMORTALSOUL VITAM AETERNUM MORTEM_

letdietheimmortalsoul

_the thing that should not be._

_Shadows from beneath, the voices of the deep that will call forth and swallow the world..._

_the darkness shall rise from the deep the darkness shall rise from the deep the darkness shall rise from the deep_

_And then the world will be awash in Nightmare and the Priest shall awaken to guide the old ones to their rightful throne upon the bones of humanity and-_

hushchildthedarknesswillrise fromthedeep

_-x-0-x-_

Cartman found himself wavering in and out of full consciousness throughout the entire day. But by that point, he wasn't really in any fit state to give a damn. Now it wasn't just voices and static and the unbearable scratching in his skull. Now there were ghosts that came along with it.

Not like literal ghosts. He knew what those looked like, he'd always been able to interact with them. Well some of them, but it was specifically Kenny's ghost he interacted with the most. These were more like... living shadows. Or... no they weren't really shadows. Apparitions? Something like that. Whatever, names weren't important. What really was important was that these things... these ghosts, as it were, they were talking to him. Of course they were talking to _him_ why the fuck wouldn't they?

They shared voices with the whispers, but they weren't actually the whispers themselves. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say that the whispers and the ghosts were all rooted in the same place but they had different messages. But Cartman was in no fit state to make any guesses, or learn anything at all from the whispers and the ghosts. They were grating on his ears, scratching at his skull and scraping up and down his spine. It was so hard to concentrate...

_Kill him kill him kill him kill him kill him KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM_

Drown in the darkness...

He came around again, but only just barely. The world around him was spinning, and it was like his wiring was fucked up. He couldn't see straight, the colors would melt together and separate again. Beside him, the shadow of Mysterion stood, glancing at him with a devilish grin. The ghost didn't say anything, it only stood, lurking on the edges of Cartman's vision. Thunder rumbled overhead. A storm was rolling in.

He stepped out from the shadows of the alley he found himself in, caught by the sounds of approaching voices. They were familiar... they were enraging. Stan, Kyle and Kenny appeared around the corner. He staggered towards them, his breath hissing and ragged. He could feel that it was way too hot even though the air was cool. The three boys stared at him, and the ghosts and whispers started screaming.

The boys exchanged looks of concern. "Dude are you okay?" Kenny asked cautiously.

_Twitch_. The screaming became more intelligible. They were speaking to him. The ghost of Mysterion stepped out of the darkness and passed around behind the three boys, peering between them. The ghost's devilish grin got wide, too wide for any normal human to be able to accomplish. _They are watching you. They are trying to steal your dreams._ The ghost tilted its head to the side and stepped through Kenny and back towards Cartman. _I'm going to take them from you. I am watching you._

"F-fuck you," Cartman sputtered. "Yer trying to... t-to... to spy on me!"

_Twitch_.

Kyle blinked several times in surprise. "Um... what?"

Eric was only vaguely aware of the three boys now. Two more ghosts had joined Mysterion: Human Kite and Toolshed, in twisted versions of their real counterparts, were circling him like shadowy vultures. Kyle's voice drew his eyes to him. "You h-heard me, Jew!"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Go home and rest or something dude, you look like shit."

"Seriously."

_Twitch_. Mysterion's head tilted even farther to the side. The angle was unnatural, like his neck was broken. His eyes were wide and round, and the regular blue had drowned in black. Deep, black pools that swallowed him up. _We're going to hurt you. We're going to kill you. You have to trap me, and kill them, before that happens._ The ghost laughed, and the other two joined it. Their laugh became whispers that shrieked in his ears.

"You look a little fucked up, Cartman. Have you even slept?" Kenny's voice cut through the static and whispers.

Cartman's whole left side of his face seemed to spasm. "C-can't."

"Why?"

"Bec-c-cause you assholes are... are _spying_ on my d-dreams!"

_If you do not stop them, they will kill you._

"Uh huh." The other three boys exchanged looks of concern and disbelief. "Okay then..."

"I'd better get going to Wendy's house, I'll see you guys in a few hours. I'll have my phone on if you need help or something."

"We'll see you later then dude," Kyle said. Cartman stumbled forward and the two remaining boys stepped back. "Okay Cartman, chill out. You're freaking me out-"

"SHUT UP YOU FILTHY JEW!" he shrieked. Kyle stepped forward again and grabbed Cartman by the scruff of his shirt.

_Yes, the rage. You will have your proof!_

"I swear to god Cartman I will kick the shit out of you if you don't stop this!" Kyle snarled. Kenny placed a hand on Kyle's shoulder.

"It's not worth it, just let him go and let's get out of here. We still need to hit the mall on our rounds." Kenny's voice cut through the whispers, and it made them so very, very angry.

_Silence him! YOU MUST SILENCE HIM._

"I... they want..." Cartman started to sputter, but the boys had started to walk away. The ghosts spun around him. They made him dizzy. He had to make them stop, make all the ungodly horrible noise quiet. So he followed, and the whispers died down. He crept behind the two boys by a good distance, making sure to maintain visual on them. They walked quickly down Main street and out towards a massive, very familiar old warehouse. They disappeared inside, so Eric waited.

He waited for a good fifteen minutes before he noticed that they'd never come back out again. Something in the back of his brain was trying to surface new memories, something that told him that there was another way, they must have gone somewhere else. So he crept into the massive field behind the warehouse, which was bordered on all sides by several thick rows of trees and shrubs. The trail was still there, and he vaguely still remembered it. The voices floating ahead of him said he was on the right path, so again he followed, until he was close enough to hear what they were saying. The shadows were his allies, they hid him in the darkness, and the clouds overhead blocked out the sun. He would trap them.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to leave Cartman on his own? He seems _really_ unstable," said one voice. It was difficult to hear through the static, but he understood it well enough. Years of practice picking out muffled noise had made it much easier.

"We can go back and look in on him if it'd make you feel better." The second voice cut through the static, rang out clear as a bell. Eric listened, not understanding. The whispers were burning, they were not happy.

"I think that's best. Cartman might be a dick but I wanna make sure he's you know... okay. That and I don't want to find out later that he accidentally got into a fight, or hurt someone because of how fucked up he is."

"I know what you mean. I really don't want another Heidi incident." The voice paused. "Okay let's see if we can track him down. Where did we see him last?"

"The alley by the construction site where the uh... the old Olive Garden was."

The first voice, the one that was foggier, seemed apprehensive. Cartman seemed to know why, but the specifics of it were hazy. Too difficult to pin down. The second voice... Mysyerion he remembered, had bad memories surrounding that place. Something about fire... and pain.

The first voice must be Human Kite then. Kite muttered, "Sorry, I didn't..."

"Don't apologize, I'm not bothered about it that bad," Mysterion replied evenly. "Anyway if we've gotta go, then let's just get it over with. I can cope."

Cartman slipped into the shadows behind them. The darkness that hung around him would hide him as long as he needed it. The pair of heroes arrived a few minutes later, on the roof of the building beside the construction site. A droplet of rain fell on Eric's hand. The sky was beginning to grow dark. That was perfect by his needs. With unfathomable speed and accuracy, Mysterion leaped down from the rooftop, landing neatly in a crouch on the open second story of the unfinished building. Human Kite followed along behind him and paused to look around.

"He's not down in the alley, so where the fuck is he?" Human Kite asked quietly.

"Not sure, but I have a feeling he's here." Mysterion stood and glanced down into the alley. "There's construction workers on the first floor."

"Dude I have a bad feeling. Like a _really_ bad feeling."

"What kind of bad feeling?"

"I dunno man, like I think someone's gonna die-"

"D-don't move," Cartman's ragged voice slithered through the air. The two boys stopped and turned as Eric emerged from the shadows.

Mysterion and Human Kite exchanged perplexed looks. "Er... Cartman, just... take it easy," Human Kite said, raising his hands in a way which tried to indicate a non-threatening manner. It didn't really work well, since Eric was already unhinged. "We're gonna help you."

"No," Eric growled, then fished into his jacket. "No you aren't, you're trying to stop me!"

"Stop you from doing what?" The static was filling his ears again. He was having difficulty hearing, but he could see clear as day. The two before him stood, almost defiantly, their mouths moving and saying... what?

_They speak only lies,_ the ghost of Mysterion said. The ghost floated around the back of the real Mysterion, peering at him, and then hovered back. _They lie, they do not want to help you. They seek only to bring you ruin._

"You... you're going to die," Cartman whispered. He produced a gun from within the jacket and raised it. The rain began to fall harder. Their eyes stared at the gleaming metal of the gun, then back up at Cartman. They were stunned.

The rain beat down on them from above, like the sky was sobbing. Thunder rumbled and lightning exploded across the sky. Cartman stood, the gun gripped firmly in his trembling hands, rain water dripping from his shivering fingers. He was completely drenched from head to foot, but Cartman did not care. He _could not_ care. It was so simple. He didn't have to, the whispers were so clear now. He knew what he had to do.

_Follow the voices beneath_.

Intense blue eyes narrowed and sized him up. "What the fuck are you doing, Cartman?" their owner demanded. His voice was gruff, deep and commanding. His voice made the whispers anxious.

_Kill him!_

"Y-you... M-Mysterion!" Eric stammered. The gun shook in his hands. "You are the s-s-s-suppressor, you h-have imprisoned them." They had told him so. The whispers had told him so!

"What the fuck are you talking about? Imprisoned who?"

"There is something seriously wrong with him," said the other figure, standing near Mysterion. Cartman vaguely remembered his face.

And then, in a voice that was not his own, Cartman replied, "_The voices beneath_." The sound that came from Eric's throat was like the hissing of a thousand horrible whispers in screeching unison. Mysterion's eyes went wide.

"What did you just say?" His voice faltered a little. Traces of Kenny McCormick could be heard inside that growl. Cartman couldn't focus on it. He couldn't focus on anything. The whispers... they were so loud now. They wanted freedom. They wanted vengeance. They wanted _Immortalis_. And they would have it. They could have anything if it just meant that the screaming whispers would finally cease and leave him with blissful, beautiful, mad silence. He wanted it. He wanted the silence they promised. He wanted the darkness and the quiet, and the scratching to cease.

"The voices beneath," he repeated, now in his own voice. The slithering whispers still spoke with him though. "You are the one who imprisoned the voices beneath."

The gun went off but the bullet impacted the floorboards beneath them.

"Kyle..." Kenny started, and corrected himself. "Kite, evacuate the construction workers downstairs. And go make sure there's no civilians nearby," Mysterion ordered. His voice slipped, and at first, Kenny McCormick had been speaking to the Human Kite. He quickly rectified his error. "I'll try to talk him down." He never broke his gaze on Eric.

"Dude are you sure? You might need help," the familiar shape of Kite said. He sounded a bit nervous.

"It's fine, just go. I'll call you on the wire if I need help." Kite's figure nodded and vanished into the heavy rain.

Then it was just the two of them. Just Mysterion and Eric Cartman... and the whispering. It didn't matter that he was acting completely insane. It didn't matter that Mysterion was staring at him with a mix of rage and utter confusion. It didn't matter that the gun he was holding could end his world, or anyone else's. Nothing mattered anymore.

"Cartman, put down the gun." It was a simple command. He wasn't pleading really, he was telling him. Mysterion was telling him to lower the weapon, but he didn't even seem afraid. If anything, he was emotionless, or maybe that was confidence?

Eric didn't lower the gun. "No you don't command me!" he stammered. His voice was not his again, and the whispers that spoke through him. "You don't command _us_!" He took aim.

"Who is us? Tell me who I'm talking to. Tell me what happened to Eric Cartman."

"We are all that is left. We will wipe the world clean and in the wake of your fall, _Immortalis_, you and your ilk will be the steps upon which the great priest and the-"

"That's enough! Tell me what you're doing to him. _Get the fuck out of him_."

At this point Cartman could feel himself again. The memories were melting together, and the bright blue eyes that stared him down were fighting the static. Whether Mysterion knew it or not, his mere presence was burning the whispers. Making them fade. Painfully.

"Fine." Mysterion looked like he'd had enough. "Fine, I'm talking to Eric Cartman now."

"_We are not-_"

"I _said_, I'm talking to Eric Cartman. Cartman, you can hear me you bastard! I know you can fucking hear me."

The whispers got louder, but even through the hissing and the shadow and the static, Cartman could hear the voice that cut through the noise. Mysterion's voice was clear and commanding as the first day the Coon had met him on the rooftop of Walgreen's all those years ago. It was deeper now, it was more impressive.

Cartman wheezed, but he couldn't respond.

"I know you can fucking hear me Cartman! Answer me!" Mysterion growled.

"K-Kenny..." Cartman choked out.

"Yeah, you know who I am. You know who _you_ are?"

He wheezed again and convulsed.

"Eric Cartman isn't this much of a pussy. You really let a bunch of fucking voices take over your brain? Like som schizophrenic half-wit fuck? Seriously?"

Something sparked in Eric's gut then. Like a fire, a small ember of anger. Eric Cartman didn't like being called a pussy.

"F-fuck you... K-Kenny..." he hacked out. Mysterion smirked.

"Come on you fat piece of shit, you're stronger than this. Since when the fuck does Eric Cartman roll over and let someone else have their way? Since when does Eric Cartman play someone else's bitch?"

Eric felt himself spasm again. The whispers were deafening, but the anger was building. A scalding, burning rage was consuming him from the inside.

"Mother f-fucker!"

"You call that anger? That's bullshit. Man up, Cartman. Have some fucking balls! Get control, or you're no better than a fucking hand puppet. All you do is flap your mouth while the guy with his hand up your ass talks for you!"

That did it. Those were the words that finally broke the dam. The words he needed to fight and gain back the foothold, to be the one in control again. Cartman shrieked. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" he roared. His body jerked again. "_GET THE FUCK OUT!"_ he thundered again, but the spasms came just as before.

_BANG!_

The near-deafening sound of it almost gave him heart failure. The gun had gone off again. He hadn't meant to pull the trigger, but the uncontrollable twitches had done it for him. The bullet found its mark and shredded right through Mysterion's chest.

Mysterion... rather, Kenny, looked down at the hole that was now pouring blood from the core of his torso. Blood leaked from his mouth. "Aw fuck," he mumbled, then staggered back. He leaned against a support beam and slid down, blood trailing along the dripping wet metal. Something dark was lurking on the periphery of Eric's vision but he could ignore it now. The deafening whispers were gone, replaced by the steady pattering of rain against wood and steel. Mysterion coughed. "Son of a... _bitch_ this... fucking... _hurts_," he grumbled weakly. There was no trace of fear in his voice. Mostly just annoyance.

Cartman threw the gun. He'd find it later, when he could control his own hands. For now he inched forward, eyes fixed on Mysterion. The wounded hero pulled down the hood of his cape and tugged off his half-mask. Kenny McCormick stared up at Cartman. Eric had regained himself, and he didn't know how.

"W-what the fuck, Kenny?" he managed to sputter, shaking from head to foot. "You're immortal, you... you c-can't fucking die!"

Kenny blinked. "Well... way to go. You shot me in the fucking chest." The effort of speaking was visibly taxing. Kenny was slipping, fast. "How the fuck do you know that?"

Cartman never got the chance to answer. Kenny coughed again and slumped over, blue eyes staring off into oblivion through the pouring rain.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Okay, so this chapter was way messed up to write. Like I mentioned before, it could be a little hard to follow, but that's intentional. The is going to be one of very few chapters that follows Cartman. Technically this one's a two-parter, and the next chapter will finish up the rest of this bit and Arc 1. Arc 2 will get more in-depth with the action, and I'm excited to get started on it. I have 5 arcs planned but that may be extended to 6, depending on how things go._

_Another early update. I had this chapter written about three days ago but I didn't want to put it up too quickly after the last update. The next chapter probably won't go up until Sunday at least, maybe Monday. But I promise it will not disappoint._

_And, as always, thank you everyone for the kind reviews. The feedback really helps me keep pushing to update regularly. Thanks again to Sapphire for your long and amusing review, it always brightens my day, and I'm glad I could be some kind of inspiration._

_I love getting feedback so please don't hesitate to write a review or even send me a note. It's always appreciated! Well anyway, see everyone next week!  
_


	6. Of a 45

**South Park - The Voices Beneath  
**

* * *

**Disclaimer: South Park and all related characters and ideas are (c) Matt Stone and Trey Parker; other copyrighted characters and ideas are property of their respective license holders. Any original content, plot ideas, etc. are of my own work and not being used for profit. **

**The following story will contain strong language, adult themes, bad puns and copious amounts of unadulterated insanity.**

**Enter at your own risk.**

* * *

******Arc 1 -MEMENTO MORI**

* * *

I have died hundreds of times. I've been shot, stabbed, burned, torn apart, blown up, incinerated... fuck, I've even been eaten by a giant fucking bird. I remember all of them. And everything that happened before. I remember every single time I've had my head blown off, every single time I've been run over.

Every single fucking time.

Even though it happens all the damn time, the pain... I never feel it any less. I feel every single time. It's like... god it's not even possible to explain it right.

And even though I've died and come back hundreds of times, revival is never any easier. I think dying itself is easier than coming back. When I was a kid it was always the same. I'd wake up in my bed, wrapped in my old orange parka and all of my scars would be gone. That was the only place I ever revived was in my own bed.

Things changed a few years ago. The first time I noticed it was after the fire. Literally like right after. Three years ago there was a fire. A lot of people died. I was one of them. I know I died saving people, because that was one of the times I made it to heaven. I've been to heaven a few times, but usually it's not for very long, and in order to make it to the golden gates, I usually have to do something like sacrifice my life to save someone or something. Then, as I always do, I would come back after a good few hours and wake up at home. That time was different. It took me a lot longer to come back than before. It took me weeks. I don't know why, really.

But when I did revive, I woke up in a hospital. For the very first time, I woke in a hospital bed, wearing whatever I had been wearing when I died, and not a single person stopped me or asked me a damn question when I left. It was fucking weird. I'm a little more used to it now, but that... fuck, that first time was terrifying. It was like no one could see me, no one would answer me. I had no answers, I had no fucking clue what was going on. I still don't, but I guess it doesn't bother me as much. Sometimes it does, but only when I get really down on myself. Lately, that's more often than I'd like. I think the hardest part of coming back that time was how fucking _shocked_ my dad was to see me come home. He didn't tell me why, he just said he was happy about it. I think he's full of shit.

But it's not always a hospital though. Sometimes I'll wake up in my bed again. Sometimes I'll wake up wherever I died. No blood, no wounds, nothing, just me laying there wherever and wondering what the fuck happened. I've started keeping track of where I wake up after I die, and I think there's a pattern. Most times, when I get shot or stabbed, depending on where it is, I'll wake up wherever I died. No one will ever be in the area, they won't even see me until I talk to them, and then they can't fucking remember a thing. It's really weird, but I guess that's not the weirdest part.

If dying destroyed part of me, like blew my arm off, shot to the head, ripped me in half, whatever, I'll wake up in a hospital bed. I'm not exactly sure what difference there is between the deaths where I wake up in my own bed and when I wake up in a hospital. I know if my body is completely destroyed, like the time I fell into one of the pulp machines at work, I'll end up in a hospital. That time was really fucked up. I somehow got knocked into the machine and shut down the whole thing, and since everyone forgot about it, they tried saying a beaver fell into it and shut the mill down for the day. It was... god I don't even know.

But I guess that's the worst part of it. I don't know. I don't know fucking anything about why I die, and why I come back unharmed. Why no one ever remembers that I die. Why no one ever fucking believes me when I try to tell them. And the one person who could have told me anything about it, the one person who had dropped hints about it my whole god damn life is now in an urn in my father's bedroom.

Life's a bitch. So is death.

I guess I started to lose faith a little bit. Not like I was just gonna keep dying until I didn't come back. I tried that, didn't work. But I mean in finding out anything about my deaths. That is until Heidi told me to remember the voices. It didn't mean anything to me until I heard Cartman say it two days later. He was obviously fucking possessed, there was no doubt about it. What really made it solid was the voices that came out of his mouth. There is no god damn way Cartman would act like a fuckup like that on his own if he wasn't getting anything out of it.

But that phrase he said. _The voices beneath_. He completed the warning Heidi was trying to make. I don't know what they tried to warn me about, but I do know that I've heard those words before. I heard them many times as a child. At night, when my mother would tuck me in and sing me to sleep, whenever she wasn't high. I know those words. But I don't know what it means.

* * *

**...Of a .45**

* * *

Just as every single other time he'd been shot, Kenny didn't feel the pain until a good ten seconds after the bullet had ripped through his chest. He looked down, the hole congealing with blood. "Aw fuck." He could see a bit of his sternum through the pouring blood. Like always, once the numbness wore away from his brain, the pain came on. It thundered through him to the beating of his heart, which was beginning to fail. He was familiar with what would happen next. His heart would try to overcompensate for his lowering blood pressure and he'd bleed to death in a matter of minutes.

The pain though... the pain was overwhelming. He could never get used to the pain. In some ways he felt like the pain kept him rooted, anchored in reality where he would otherwise have lost his mind. So he stayed rooted in the pain, focused on it. It would give him a few extra minutes of consciousness before his soul was inevitably ejected from his dead body and he'd recover elsewhere.

Blood started to drip from his mouth and, stumbling back into one of the girders, he slid to the ground. Blood streaked along the metal and the dripping rain drops started to wash it away. "Son of a... _bitch_ this... fucking... _hurts_," he coughed. He was bleeding much less than he was used to from getting shot in the chest, and that was more often than he liked. He was death prone, no getting around it, but fuck, why in the chest? The head was so much fucking quicker. It was depressing that he had preferences for his own damn deaths, but his situation was different.

The mask was making it hard for him to see so he jerked off the hood and tore the mask down, hands trembling.

"W-what the fuck, Kenny?" Cartman sputtered. His usual obnoxious tone was slowly returning to his shaking voice. He was shivering from head to foot, fear rooted in his small dark eyes. "You're immortal, you... you c-can't fucking die!"

Kenny blinked. He was staring at Cartman, but there was something different. Like an inky black mist was hovering around him, that hadn't been there before the gunshot. He wasn't sure what to make of it. "Well... way to go. You shot me in the fucking chest." Just the effort of speaking was draining every bit of him, his vision was beginning to blur. But what Cartman just said rang in his head. _Immortal_. There was no possible fucking way Cartman should know that. Kenny had to know. He had to remember before the world went back. "How the fuck do you know that?"

But it was too late. Whatever Cartman would have said, Kenny didn't hear it, because oblivion claimed him and dragged him away.

_-x-0-x-_

_Even without his body, Kenny always remained completely cognitive during death. He remembered everything that happened, wherever his soul would tread. He didn't make it to heaven this time. He only made it to the cloud city if he was dying in place of another, sacrificing himself to save people, or doing something generally heroic. Whenever he would make it to heaven though, the angels that occupied the golden city would greet him as an old friend. And really, he kind of was._

_He didn't end up in Hell this time, either. While he wasn't doing anything specifically heroic when the bullet had signed his death warrant, he wasn't really doing anything terrible, either. He'd seen Hell almost as often as Heaven, and it never surprised him that he was greeted as a friend in either place. After awhile you sort of got to know who you were hanging around with every couple of days._

_The place he found himself in was different. It wasn't Limbo, he'd been there a few times. Actually Purgatory was the place he ended up most often, when his deaths were the result of random happenstance. But this place was different. Where Limbo was a blank, empty, never-ending expanse of silence and nothingness, this place was shadowy, shrouded in thick gray mists. It was... well, a little eerie. Even more than Purgatory ever was. Even in Purgatory he would sometimes run across wayward souls who couldn't cope with their demise. Sometimes he'd help them out when he could, if it was just a matter of letting them vent, or talking them through it. At least then his time stuck there in Limbo was useful._

_Here there was no one and nothing in any direction left or right. Just mist and shadow. Above him he could see what looked like shifting skies, with blurred, horrible color. Calm blue melted to fiery red, melted to endless black and then something else he couldn't place. He glowered up at the skies and looked down. Or really, in the direction he thought might be down, it was hard to tell in places like this. He'd never been here before. It was nothing like anywhere he'd ever been in life or in death. Below him he saw green and blue blurred together, and at the same time something he saw that looked like what he imagined life would be, if life had a true color. It swayed and swelled like the tides of a vast ocean, shimmering with life. And around its edges, the shadows of what he assumed were death. But that was the bit that confused him. Death didn't strike him as inky shadow. So what the hell was that?_

_And further more, what was the darkness that was stalking him through these shrouded mists?_

_He'd noticed it on the periphery of his vision, something like a spreading pool of ink that stained the mist. It had been following him for a good several minutes. But to be truthful, he really didn't know how long he'd been here. Time in the places outside of the living world didn't really flow the same.  
_

_"What the fuck are you?" he murmured to himself, and the little blotch of darkness. As though in response, the pool seemed to draw into itself, and he turned to face it. The ink blotch hovered silently, overlapping itself, a ball of black. It floated silently in place and then shifted, as though it wanted him to follow._

_"This is fucking insane," Kenny muttered to himself. He often found that whenever he'd get stuck in the empty places, where there was no one else around, he would end up talking to himself. Just to hear something, to keep him rooted in reality. The sound of his own voice was comforting. It would have to be until he revived. It didn't help that he had no idea where he was, and on top of that, this place gave him the creeps. The place he was in now, it felt like it was trying to crawl under his skin, get into his head. He didn't really like the feeling, so he steeled himself against it. The feeling subsided, but grudgingly._

_The ink blotch sank to the flat part that acted like the ground and spread. Kenny inched near it. It was trying to show him something. The pool swirled a little, beckoning him. He peered into it. The black gave way to dim shadow, which shaped itself into craggy terrain, high cliffs and crumbling ruins. Towers that pierced the sky, tombs the size of battleships, a horizon of red earth dusted with shadow. It was a place he knew, but his mind couldn't place the name._

_Curiosity tingled and tugged at the tips of his fingers and hooked him, and he inched forward slowly, outstretched fingers reaching for the swirling black._

_But just before his fingers could touch, the familiar tugging in his stomach drew back his hand. He was being recalled. Much quicker than usual sure, but that didn't matter. It was always just a matter of time before his body, wherever it ended up, would call back for his soul and he'd be pulled back into life. He let himself dissolve as he always did, the blinding light pressing him down._

_-x-0-x-_

"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck," were the first sounds Kenny heard. They weren't coming from him, but he hadn't been able to pry his eyes open yet to figure out who was responsible.

Then his lungs expanded hard, filled with wonderful, glorious air and he lurched, violently, upright. He gulped down air and then coughed harshly, leaned forward, and choked out a blob of liquid black. It splattered against the ground and dissolved.

"Gross," he muttered and sat back.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" was all Cartman could manage to say, or scream rather. Kenny turned his eyes up at him, arching an eyebrow. Cartman was still panicking. "You... what? How the fuck, Kenny?"

Kenny looked down. Where there had once been a hole in the middle of his chest, there was no wound. He rubbed the spot gingerly, and was pleased to find there was no pain either. He glanced back up at Cartman. He was no longer twitching, he was responsive and sounded more himself than he had in days. Whatever had happened, it was gone now. Slowly Kenny got to his feet, picking up his half-mask as he went. He'd need to put it back on or someone might see him. Cartman was holding his head again.

"God damn it," the large boy grumbled. "Fuck, Kenny, what the fuck?!"

Kenny secured the mask in its rightful place again and drew the hood of his cape back up. "I can ask you the same thing," he said, affecting Mysterion's growl once more. "I think you have a bit of explaining to do."

"_Me_?! What about you! You just fucking _died_ and came back to life-"

"See, right there, that's where you need to start explaining, right fucking now. And since you're the one who FUCKING SHOT ME, you get to answer my questions first. _Then_ if I like your answers, I'll give you some of my own. Deal?"

Cartman mulled it over visibly. The thing about Cartman was that he was unpredictable as hell. Sometimes he could play his thoughts close to the vest, but he seemed to lack that ability right now. Contemplation was evident on his face. He appeared to realize he didn't have much of a choice. Cartman folded his arms and glared off to the side. "Fine, I guess. Ask your questions."

"First you can start explaining how you know about me. How the fuck do you remember?"

Cartman blinked. "Kay well if I'm gonna answer that you gotta explain what you mean. 'Remember'...?"

Kenny narrowed his eyes. "Okay, I guess. Give and take and whatever the fuck." He sighed heavily and stared up at the darkening sky. "So I'm assuming you remember that I've died a fair few times and come back." Cartman nodded. Kenny couldn't help it, his voice was bitter. Just talking about his curse made him angry, but talking about it with fucking Cartman just made him sick. "When I do, no one remembers anything about it. I've tried to tell Stan and Kyle but they're the same as everyone else, and even though I've actually showed them, they don't remember afterwards. So, get to explaining how the fuck of all people, _you_ are the one that remembers."

Cartman glowered. "I dunno, I just always did, okay?"

"No that's NOT okay!" Kenny snapped. Even with the mask on, annoyance was beginning to give way to anger and it was obvious on his face. Just the simple fact that Cartman, one of the people Kenny could stand the least of anyone he knew, had to be the one fucking person he would be able to confide in about his deaths without him forgetting ten seconds later. Were Kenny a religious man, he'd probably start slewing curses at the sky.

"Well it's not my fuckin' fault!" Cartman sounded a bit exasperated, but his tone was thick with defensiveness. "Not like I want to see, and hear, and remember all this shit. I remember all of the weird shit that goes on! Like that time you died after the Terrance and Phillip movie, and I've been talkin' to ghosts since they put that fuckin' chip in my head-"

"What chip?"

Cartman give him a strange look. "The v-chip, remember? Made me not able to swear and shit, and I saw _you_ as a fucking ghost. Then the chip got all fucked up when I got electrocuted. Even after they took it out I see and remember shit that no one else does. That's all I know about it."

Kenny was silent for several minutes, trying to wrap his brain around what he was hearing. "Fuck, seriously?" he grumbled. "Of all people it's gotta be you. God damn it." His voice only betrayed a fraction of the sheer frustration that was boiling on the inside. Inside he was screaming, railing against every power that was for his truly fucking terrible luck. It was bad enough that he was cursed. He spent almost as much time dead as he did alive, and that in itself was pretty fuckin' horrible. But now this. Now the one person in the world who openly remembered that Kenny was in fact cursed and not just blowing smoke out of his ass, it had to be fucking Eric Cartman.

God damn it.

"It's not like I asked for this," Cartman mumbled. A scathing glare from Kenny silenced him.

"Next question," Kenny snapped. He didn't want to think about Cartman's memory for the time being, the rage it caused would only serve to make the situation worse. So he decided to focus on another pressing issue. "How much do you remember of the last two days?"

Cartman thought about it hard. "Some, I guess," he said after a few minutes. "There was... okay this isn't gonna make a lot of sense but it's like there was static and shit. I couldn't see or hear for good chunks of time." He paused again. Kenny turned to look at him through the rain. "But I remember the voices. They were like... whispers in my head." Cartman shuddered. "It was kinda dark. I dunno, they kept mentioning whispers and voices and a ton of other shit, and they said Immortal over and over... fuck it was... totally weak."

Kenny nodded. "When did it start? And how?"

"Thursday," Cartman replied slowly. "I was heading for the bus stop to meet you guys and I saw Butters-"

"God damn it," Kenny groaned. "So he _is_ involved?" Of course Butters would be involved. Despite Butters' natural optimist outlook and general kindness, he had a nasty habit of getting lumped into bad situations without really understanding _anything_ at all about what was going on.

"Well let me fucking finish! Jeez," Cartman grumbled indignantly. Kenny rolled his eyes and waved him on. "I saw Butters actin' sneaky and shit so I followed him to an alley. I... the rest is kinda fuzzy. Well really fuzzy, but whatever. I remember they were meeting someone, and they were talking to some guy and the guy spoke and I felt that whispering start and I blacked out."

Kenny took a moment to process all of this. It was more than he wanted to handle, but right now there wasn't a choice. But seriously, of all the people on the planet. Why the fuck did it have to be Cartman? He'd have more time to be angry about it later. He needed more information. And that meant he couldn't fly off the handle at Cartman, despite how badly he really wanted to.

He sighed again. "Okay. So Butters and... wait who's they?"

"Butters and the little ginger fag that follows him around."

"Dougie?"

"That kid."

"Okay." He paused. "So the whispers. They called me Immortal?"

"_Immortalis_, whatever the fuck that came from."

But Kenny knew it. He'd been studying the language since Freshman year, and he'd gotten good at it. "It's Latin," Kenny said flatly. "It's pretty obvious that it means Immortal." He rubbed his face. "So you knew about... _it_... before the whispering started?"

"Yeah I guess."

"And you couldn't be fucking bothered to bring this up?" Kenny growled. "In almost ten fucking years you couldn't even mention this?"

"I figured you didn't like talking about it." The sheer force of such a statement made Kenny almost stomp over and belt Cartman across the face repeatedly. The iron will that held him steady was a force to be reckoned with, that battled with the inferno of rage that threatened to boil over and send him into a violent public display.

He instead chose to take a long, deep breath. "You're so fucking stupid, Cartman," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Hmph." Cartman turned. "Can I ask questions now?"

Kenny glared at him. "Fine, but you'd better be quick about it."

"What are you?"

"Ugh." Of course he'd ask that. Why the fuck would he not? It was a question Kenny had asked himself for years now. And he was no closer to an answer now than he had been nine years before when he'd first started looking for one. "I don't know, Cartman."

"Are you an alien like Mintberry fuckin' Crunch?" Well at least they saw a little bit eye-to-eye on that one. Kenny had never been Bradley Biggle's biggest fan, even before he'd fucked him over during the Gulf Crisis.

"No. I was born here in South Park, I have a birth certificate and my mom used to keep pictures..." he swallowed hard. This really wasn't the place to be thinking about that, but it hurt none the less. His lingering presence here, at the site where he had now died _twice_, only served to make his stomach tie itself in a knot.

"So... what, you're just some kind of freaky... are you like... you know. _Him_?"

There was no further clarification needed. Kenny knew exactly who _Him_ was referring to.

"No," he said darkly, almost bitterly. "I am _nothing_ like that fucking monster. I have human organs, and I'm not confined to some fucking hell dimension. I live and breathe and-"

"Die?"

"...Yeah." They were silent. Kenny looked over Cartman again. He was a little shaken, but he was slowly returning to normal. What they discussed though, it made Kenny think. There was something they had to work through, something coming through the darkness and they needed help. Despite how much he hated Cartman sometimes, realization dawned on him. They _really _needed help. They needed as much as they could get. Heidi's public suicide had been a very stern, loud wakeup call that they were unprepared. Her death had struck them all so hard it had sent most of them reeling, and they needed a push back on their feet.

And more than that, they needed help. They needed more eyes, they needed more perspectives. Especially from someone who had personally had a hand in the crisis that had taken the planet by storm the first time eight years before, someone who was just as familiar as Kenny was with the things the cult could get up to, especially if they were really involved like he suspected.

So he groaned inwardly, and after coming to a firm decision, said, "Look, Cartman. You know first hand what'll happen if this gets out of hand. The crazy shit, the suicides... demons and all that. I..." he trailed off, braced himself, and went on. "I think you should come back to the League."

Cartman was dumbstruck. "What?"

"I'm making you an offer. I'll let you come back and fight along side us again, but there's conditions."

The large boy stared at him incredulously. "Are... are you... seriously?"

"Yeah... pretty fuckin' serious."

"Why?"

Kenny rolled his eyes. "I'm giving you a chance to make up for all the shit you've caused."

"Yeah, but I'm seriously. Why? How come now and not like... a year ago."

"Because this shit wasn't happening a year ago, you fucking moron." Kenny glared heavily at Cartman. "Are you in or not?"

"Ech. Fine. I'm in, but what's the conditions? Do I have to like, keep your weird power shit a secret or something?"

"It wouldn't matter if you told anyone or not. They'll forget." He glanced at Cartman. It hadn't really dawned on him that someone else would ever know anything about his curse. He wondered if the shroud of forgetfulness would extend if someone else shared the knowledge instead of Kenny, or instead of witnessing it.

Kyle reappeared then, a little out of breath. He'd climbed the building next door and leaped back down to stand on the unfinished second story with the other two boys. "The workers are cleared out, told 'em there was a problem we're looking into and they should get off the premises until we could figure it out. Bought us a good fifteen more minutes... what's going on?" He looked between the two of them, confused. "Dude, are you bleeding?"

"No," Kenny said, then cleared his throat to drop into Mysterion's deep tone again. "The thing that was in his fat head is gone now though."

"'Ay!"

"I want to induct him back into the League."

Kyle, or rather, the Human Kite, stared at Mysterion in utter and quite justifiable disbelief. "Are... you serious, dude? He just pulled a gun on us!"

"And he's fine now."

"But Mysterion it's... you know, the same guy who keeps trying to fuck with everything we do. We're talking about the same guy who wanted to blow up the mall on Tuesday night!"

"Considering everything else going on, he could be an asset."

Kite trusted Mysterion's judgement, but he was doubtful as hell about what Mysterion was asking. Not without good reason, though. Asking that the Coon be allowed to come back after all the shit he'd pulled in the last four years, and after booting him out the second time, was a lot to consider. Mysterion watched him as Kite thought it over hard. "What are the conditions?" he asked at last.

Mysterion's face broke into a half grin. "There are a good number of them. First, admission is on a trial basis. You don't just get to waltz in and be treated like the other members until you can prove yourself. And since you've fucked up a lot, it's gonna take time."

"Fine, what's the next one?" Cartman said, crossing his arms again.

"You have to pass a psych evaluation."

"Fuck, seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. You were batshit crazy for the last two days. You pass the evaluation."

"Whatever. What else?"

"You, meaning the Coon, has to make a public apology."

Kite smirked and snickered loudly, and Cartman blanched.

"You gotta be kiddin' me!"

"That's actually not a bad idea, Mysterion."

"A _public apology_!?"

"Yes. In costume. You can apologize for your past actions and promise to work for justice from here out."

Cartman looked exasperated. He glanced between Kite and Mysterion, and after some angry muttering, consented. "Fiiine. Is that it?"

"Just one more thing," Mysterion said. "We get to know what you know. Information that helps, you spill _all_ of it. No withholding shit just because you don't think it's relevant or some shit like that."

"Fine."

"Anything to add, Kite?"

"Yeah. I will be watching you. You better not fucking slip up or I swear to god, Cartman..."

"I get it, I get it, eesh. Alright?"

Mysterion rolled his eyes. "Let's go, we're going to attract a crowd if we hang around much longer. The meetup probably started without us."

_-x-0-x-_

As soon as they arrived at the base, Cartman looked apprehensive. "Is this the same warehouse?"

"Same one outside, it's been renovated though."

"Close your eyes. Until you're out of your trial someone else has to let you inside."

"Eesh, fine."

Cartman turned around, giving Human Kite time to punch in the code. The door unlocked and swung forward, allowing the three boys entry into the base. They closed it securely behind them and the lock reactivated with a soft _click!_ "I'll show you upstairs later, let's head downstairs first and get into the meetup. Formal meeting is tomorrow."

"In-costume, by the way. So don't forget your tail," Kite smirked, and snickered at the glare Cartman shot him.

Without another word they made their way down the stairs to the meeting room and passed through the doorway. As soon as Mysterion was visible, clear and obvious concern appeared on everyone's faces. Most of them stood up to help him, but the fact that he was moving fine on his own stayed their feet.

"Dude what happened?" Stan asked quickly. Mysterion grinned and waved the question off. He would have answered but it would only make things more complicated.

"It's nothing, no worries," he replied, carefully avoiding the obvious, unasked question about the bloodstains on his shirt, or why he wasn't wearing a vest. He pulled off his hood and shook the water droplets from his shaggy blonde hair, then strode to take his seat.

Kite came in next. Mysterion observed the expression of uncertainty and distrust on his face. He'd pulled off his hood, and his goggles hung loosely around his neck. "Hey guys," he greeted them and moved in through the door to take his seat on the other side of Stan.

Cartman came in last. The entire room was completely dumbstruck at his appearance in the room. "Cartman?" the entire table questioned together, except for Kite and Mysterion. Stan shot Kite a look, who just shook his head as if to say _don't ask_. Cartman shuffled into the room, looking nervous. Mysterion smirked, enjoying seeing Cartman so out of his element. If nothing else, maybe he'd learn something from this whole incident. Maybe he could finally learn to be a bearable human being.

Wendy blinked several times. "Um... Mysterion?" Her eyes shot to Cartman and back to their leader. Her face read, _Seriously?_

He leaned forward in the chair and folded his hands on the table in front of him. "I will explain, I promise. First let's get a recap going, and I'll add to it. I promise it'll be worthwhile."

After a few minutes of bewildered silence, Stan stood up to speak again, walking to stand at the board that was situated behind Mysterion's chair. He turned in the chair to see.

"Um... well I guess it started about what... two hours ago?" he glanced at Wendy for confirmation. She nodded. "Yeah, alright. So, Wendy and I were walking out by Stark's Pond after I left you guys downtown. We spotted Professor Chaos and General Disarray talking to the guy in the White Suit.

"Same guy from the crime scene Wednesday?" Kite asked, somewhat alarmed.

"The very same. They were talking to him," Stan said, then caught Mysterion's eye and gestured to the written word _CULT_, "and someone who looked like a cult member. Because it was kinda dark and he had a hood on, we couldn't see his face. He was wearing a similar black robe to the guys who hang out in the Cthulhu cult except he had on this medallion and there wasn't an anarchy symbol on the chest."

Mysterion nodded. He didn't like that the cult, any cult at all, was involved. It meant shit was going to hit the fan.

"And, from what it sounded like, Chaos and Disarray were contracted into getting ahold of something for the cult," Wendy added.

"Or at the very least, the cult-looking guy we saw and Mr. White Suit. Chaos and Disarray picked up a book from somewhere."

"An extremely old book. And on top of that, there was a report yesterday that Wednesday night, someone broke into a museum in Fort Collins and stole something."

Kite's eyes lit up in realization. "A really old book out of one of the ancient Sumerian exhibits!" he finished for them.

"Right. The cult guy wanted Chaos to read something out of the book. But he really didn't want anyone else to hear it. Mr. White suit spotted us somehow, and the cult guy flew off the fucking handle and _shot_ at us. He chased us all the way to the Home Depot. I don't think he intended to let us go alive."

Mysterion nodded. "Okay, so our turn to add on to that. We've got a few connections here, so let's see where it leads. We have Mr. White suit who was present in two places, at both the crime scene and in the woods, with Chaos, Disarray, and a potential cult member. That at the very least links the two."

Cartman cleared his throat. "Three places," he said. "I remembered something from the alley."

Everyone around the table turned their eyes on him. "Okay, well speak up then," Mysterion said, waving a hand to gesture him on. "Actually, why don't you start from the top so we're all on the same page. Explain what happened."

"Ech, fine. Okay, so it started yesterday. I saw Butters meet up with the ginger douche-"

"Dougie," Mysterion corrected him sternly.

"Yeah, him. I saw Butters and _Dougie_ meet up in the alley behind our houses. They were meeting with someone that Butters called Mr. Havoc." He paused, and the others looked around at one another. The name didn't ring a bell. Cartman went on. "They mentioned that they were supposed to meet someone else on Friday named Johnson."

"That could be the cult guy," Mysterion remarked, glancing around. They all nodded in agreement so he wrote another bullet point beneath the first three Stan had written, and followed it with _Cult - __Johnson?_. He replaced the pen cap and turned to listen to Cartman once more.

"Anyway one of them said that he trusted whoever Havoc is more than Johnson, because he's never seen Johnson's face. Then that Mr. Havoc guy turned up and started talking..." Cartman shuddered. "His voice was all kinds of fucked up."

"Did you get a good look at him?" Clyde asked.

"Wrong how?" was Mysterion's question. He didn't like the sound of it.

"I saw the back of him. He was wearing some gay fucking suit. A white suit. His voice was... ugh. It was bad. Like he had a deep sort of tone but like... fuck I dunno how to explain it. Like there were _spiders_ in his fucking mouth. It was creepy."

At the word of the man's appearance the entire table started. "White suit?!" Kite said, almost excited. "That's _gotta_ be him!"

"Gives more credence to the theory that this shit is all linked together." Mysterion paused a moment. Another thought struck him, and he quickly asked, "Toolshed, StrikeForce, neither of you could hear this guy talk, right?"

They both shook their heads and Mysterion released a relieved sigh. "Okay, so that's one good thing. If what Cartman says is accurate, then hearing Havoc speak is not something you want to do."

"So, we have Chaos and Disarray stealing a book probably from the museum in Fort Collins. We have White suit... what was his name? Havoc? We've got Mr. Havoc appearing in three different places," Clyde started summarizing.

"Sentinel you said you turned something up on the video feed from the mall, right?" Kite asked, directing the attention of the room to Ike.

He cleared his throat and spoke up. "Yeah actually I did. It's not huge or anything but it could help a lot." He nodded over to Timmy, who then turned his wheelchair and tapped a few keys on the monitoring station. They all moved for a closer look as the feed flickered to life on the screen.

The scene played out before them on several small sections of screen. Ike had apparently gone into the mall's internal video system and pulled up all of the camera feeds from the ones that could see what happened. They watched as Heidi, accompanied by Kal and Jessie, walked through the mall, visibly talking and laughing. Mysterion hated that there was no sound, but it couldn't be helped.

The girls arrived at the center of the mall, which acted as a food court, entertainment area, and a variety of other things. There were several video monitors above eye level that displayed a number of different programs, ranging from fashion news to sports. It was also right underneath the broken dome. Heidi's eye were drawn up to something and she stopped abruptly. The other two girls stopped as well, concerned. Moments later, Heidi began walking in circles and muttering.

"I remember this part," Kite said solemnly. The mall cop approached, and sure enough, a knife materialized in Heidi's hand and she slit the poor man's throat.

Audible winces, groans and gasps filled the room at the sight. Only Kyle and Stan had been present when the first attack had happened, and the others had only been left to imagine it from what the boys described and from the end result at the crime scene. Mysterion found it ten times more horrible than he'd thought.

Kite and Toolshed appeared on the footage seconds later, and the fight began, with more and more bodies adding up.

"Zat was fucking 'orrible," Christophe hissed through gritted teeth. Mysterion nodded and glanced sideways at Cartman. He was watching with a blank expression fixed on his face. Cartman wasn't a stranger to gore. He'd hacked up dead bodies before and seen plenty of corpses. Still, it made Mysterion wonder what was going through his head, whether he was as horrified as the others or if it bored him like everything else.

He turned his eyes back on the video feed. Biotic, StrikeForce, and the Mole appeared on the screen. Their efforts to contain Heidi were fruitless and she ducked away.

"Does anyone else think the way she moves is like... I dunno, one of those marionette puppets?" Clyde asked quietly.

"Fuck dude, I'm off puppets now, thanks for that," Stan muttered. Mosquito appeared next and made to tackle her, but she slipped away and started running at a sprint.

Mysterion's eyebrows shot up when Biotic and Toolshed launched Kite into the air to head her off. "Wow guys, that's a pretty nifty move," he commented. "That's awesome."

"Yeah, sort of a heat-of-the-moment thing, but I think we should try it out in the field later," Token replied.

On the screen Heidi doubled back just as Kite landed in front of her. She slipped past Toolshed, who had to throw his whole weight into stopping.

"Okay so I think this is where you finally put your wire on," Kite said, pointing. He was vaulting over a table in a half-baked attempt at heading her off again, but she proved too fast. Toolshed finally caught up with her, and the knife swung up narrowly missing his neck.

"Dude if StrikeForce hadn't warned you in time you'd be dead," Token said thoughtfully. Stan nodded, and out of the corner of his eye, Mysterion saw him take Wendy's hand and squeeze it.

Heidi took off again after assaulting Kite and Toolshed, making a beeline for the two girls crouched behind the bench. She smashed through it and something almost black streaked by four of the cameras. "Enter Mysterion," Clyde said, nudging him.

The final scene played out before them. Mysterion watched himself grab her wrist firmly before she could stab Jessie in the head. Then, in the same creepy marionette fashion Clyde had pointed out, she twisted and grabbed the knife out of her trapped hand and stabbed herself. Ike paused it.

"Okay, now here is what I picked out. In both the beginning _and_ the end, she was looking at something. Here," he gestured as one screen replayed the start, "she's looking up and over Kal and Jessie. I think she's looking at one of the video monitors but I can't seem to get a clear look at it. And if you notice here, she's looking in the same direction, right over Mysterion's head." He pointed to a separate screen, pointing out exactly as he said.

"The fuck's she looking at?" Cartman asked quietly. The rest of them had been thinking essentially the same thing.

"I'm not sure," Ike said. "If I had to guess, I'd say she's looking at one of the monitors. There's only a visual on one of the cameras, and it's not a very good one." He tapped the screen in question and it enlarged to encompass most of the display. The frame showed Mysterion, gripping Heidi's arm, and she was in mid-motion attempting to grab the knife with her free hand. Just visible over Mysterion's head was a row of monitors from the court in the mall. All of them were bright with their displays. Except he middle one. Whatever was on it, it showed up completely black. Inky black.

"That's messed up."

They all returned to their seats again. "Okay, so here's a possibility. If she was looking at the monitors, maybe she got a visual cue that set her off. Reasonable assumption?" Mysterion suggested.

"I think it is," Kite said. "If that's the case, it would be some sort of brainwashing. Maybe something that requires a trigger?"

Mysterion pondered for a moment. "Cartman," he said after several minutes of silence. "Go over what Havoc's voice did and how it affected you."

All eyes settled on Cartman, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "It was... kinda weird," he started slowly. "I uh... dunno how to explain it real well. But like... so after he spoke I sorta like blacked out. I would hear whispers and they were seriously loud. They said a lot of stuff I didn't understand but I remember some of it. Sometimes it wasn't English though."

"Well what do you remember?"

"Well at first it just kept... repeating that I had to follow some voices."

"The voices beneath," Kite supplied. Mysterion had filled him on on the way to the base... mostly. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Got me. They said to follow the voices all the fucking time, it was so creepy."

"What else?"

"Well..." he glanced up at Mysterion. "They kept telling me to kill Stan, Kyle and Kenny. I didn't really understand why."

The three boys looked between each other. "Well that's uh... comforting," Stan said with an eyebrow raised. "Anything else?"

Cartman thought hard for a minute. "Yeah actually. There was a couple of times that they were reciting that sounded like some stupid shit out of a book. Like... verses or something." He squinted his eyes and thought hard for a minute. "_Shadows from_... something something..._ the voices of the deep that will_ something... something..._ and swallow the world. __And then the world_ something or other___ in Nightmare and the Priest shall awaken to guide the old ones to their rightful throne upon the bones of humanity_. That's it, that's all I remember."

Ike had written it down. "I'll see if I can cross reference it with anything and find out where it came from."

Kenny glanced at his watch. "Alright, so we've got a few new pieces of this fucking puzzle, so let's do a quick check-in with everyone before we do assignments. Ummm... Kite you go first. Subject is Chaos."

Mysterion sat and Kite stood. "Okay so I checked up on Butters. He's been acting a bit shifty, but whether or not that has to do with him stealing the book is up for debate. From what Cartman... er... the Coon said," he said, remembering that Cartman was now sort of in the League again, "and from what Stan told us about what happened at the pond, he is at the very least connected to Havoc."

"Okay, so on that note, Biotic? Anything on Yates?"

"Well we know that Havoc is probably whispering in Yates' ear, but to what end I still have no damn idea. I checked in on the department, seems like Yates has been acting strange for about a week now with no apparent reason behind it. And, unfortunately, you're not gonna like this next bit Mysterion. He's started trying to have other detectives screen what they say in case League members are hanging around."

Mysterion slapped a palm to his forehead. "Fucking great. Okay, so Yates is connected to Havoc and the crime scene. On that note, Toolshed and Mosquito?"

The pair of them stood as Token sat down. "So we dug through Heidi's records. She has... she _had_ absolutely no previous history of mental illness, or any other kind of illness. No family history of mental illness either. So I think it's safe to say we can rule out a preexisting condition."

"Awesome," Mysterion said wearily. "StrikeForce, what'd you turn up?"

Wendy stood. "Well not as much as I would have liked. We all remember that she was acting normally right up until school let out on Wednesday. According to you guys, she didn't start acting weird until she was at Token's house. So whatever happened to cause her to start going... well nuts, it would have had to happen between her leaving the school and arriving at Token's. I've talked to all of our friends and it seems to be the same story with everyone. They saw her getting into her car but no one talked to her after that."

"Dude that's fucking strange," Kite said and rubbed his temples.

"Very strange. Okay so last is me and the Mole. Did you find anything odd with the cult aside from the weird shit with the guy by Stark's Pond?"

Christophe stood. "Oui, actually. I did pick up some'sing, but it may not be relevant." He flipped through a small notepad. "While I was doing some listening, I over'eard one of zee Cthulhu Cult members mention some'sing about a group called zee Travelers of Nightmare. I didn't 'ear much else but zat sounded shady to me."

The group looked at one another, exchanging quizzical glances. "Anyone...?" Clyde asked to the entire table.

"Never heard of 'em," Mysterion said.

"Me either, but it sorta rings a bell," Ike said thoughtfully. "I'll see what I can dig up."

"Sounds good. So I didn't pick up anything especially interesting from my observations except that they're having more frequent meetings inside McElroy's house aside from the usual Friday night meeting. No idea what about, apparently they've barred off the window that we used to use to keep an eye on them."

"So since it's getting late, want to hand out updated assignments and break?" Ike suggested.

"Um I think StrikeForce and I are gonna stay in the barracks tonight," Stan spoke up. "I'm a bit too rattled to go home."

Mysterion nodded and stood. "Alright that sounds good. So Toolshed and StrikeForce, since you're gonna be here do some internet searching on whatever that book was that went missing from the museum. Biotic, see if you can get any more information about what Yates is up to before tomorrow night. After the meeting tomorrow I want to run a full patrol. If the cops are trying to get us to back down I want to reply to that with a big 'fuck you'. Kite, since you work at the library, see what you can find in any of the older books about... well any of this really. Whenever you can. Mole, try and get more info about what the cult is up to, see if they say anything else about the Travelers of Nightmare." He paused and looked around at them. "Sentinel and Iron Maiden, start going through traffic cam footage and see if you can figure out if Heidi stopped anywhere or talked to anyone between leaving the school and arriving at Token's. Coon..." he trailed off, eying Cartman. He looked a bit hopeful and much less apprehensive than he had a few minutes ago. "You start trying to remember every single thing that happened between Thursday morning and earlier today. _Write it down_ if you can remember anything and bring it to the meeting tomorrow.

"Alright, did I miss anything?" Mysterion finished.

"Nope I think that was all of it."

"Okay, so tomorrow at 6:30. We'll do our formal meeting and then patrols." With that he stood, and everyone else stood as well. Stan and Wendy made their way up to the barracks on the top floor, while everyone else filed out of the front door and into the coming darkness. Kenny had taken a minute once they had finished their discussion to change rapidly into street clothes, something that Kyle had done as well. Since Stan wasn't planning on leaving that night, they all instead piled into Token's SUV to head home.

_-x-0-x-_

Kenny arrived home by the time the sun had gone down completely. It was almost pitch black outside on account of the unrelenting rain. He slipped in the door, and after a quick look around the house, found that his father wasn't home. That was well enough, he didn't feel like trying to figure out what the fuck was up with him. Kenny walked back through the hallway towards his father's room. He peered in through the door, which stood ajar, and after he was confident that his father wasn't home, he made his way to Karen's room.

As she noticed his presence she looked up and smiled sadly. "Hey Kenny," she greeted him.

"What's wrong, Kiddo?" he asked and entered the room, sitting beside her on the bed. She was in her pajamas, leaning against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chest. He absolutely hated it when she looked sad the way she did now.

"I dunno, I just... I had flashbacks to the fire again today," she said softly. "I don't know why." Karen sighed. "I don't even remember it very well. It was... it went by fast. I'm not sure how I survived."

Kenny nodded. He did actually know how she survived, but he couldn't tell her. He couldn't bear to be the one that caused her pain with the knowledge that he'd died for her... several times. "Just count your blessings," he settled to say.

She sniffled. "But what about Mom? It feels like just when everything was getting better it just got worse again."

Kenny placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Karen don't think about it, okay? It... wasn't a good thing. And yeah, no one is doubting that, but try to focus on the good stuff, alright? Don't focus on the sad things." She nodded quietly. "You're going to be okay. I promise."

Karen nodded again and curled up beside him. "Kenny?" she asked after several long minutes of silence.

"Hm?

"Will you sing with me? To help me sleep."

Kenny didn't answer at first. It was true that he did have a decent enough singing voice. Actually that was something of an understatement. He'd sung his way to Europe and all over a few years ago, and his voice was pretty good, if he had to say so himself. "Yeah, okay. What song did you want to sing?"

"The Devil's nine questions."

He chuckled and patted her head. "Alright. You want me to sing the devil?"

"Please."

So Kenny took a deep breath and sang, "_If you don't answer my questions nine, Sing ninety-nine and ninety, I'll take you off to Hell alive, And you are the weaver's bonny_." Karen hummed along with the words. "_What is whiter than the milk? Sing ninety-nine and ninety; What is softer than the silk? Say you're the weaver's bonny_."

Then Karen sang, with Kenny humming along. "_Snow is whiter than the milk, Sing ninety-nine and ninety; Down is softer than the silk, And I'm the weaver's bonny_." As their voices wove together in beautiful harmony, the world seemed to fall away into a blissful cloud.

And Kenny sang, "_What is louder than a horn? Sing ninety-nine and ninety; What is sharper than a thorn? Sing I am the weaver's bonny_."

Karen sang her reply, "_Thunder's louder than a horn, Sing ninety-nine and ninety; Death is sharper than a thorn, And I'm the weaver's bonny_."

The music picked up tempo softly. Kenny's voice, a clear and heavenly tenor, rang out again. "_What is higher than a tree? Sing ninety-nine and ninety; What is deeper than the sea? Sing I'm the weaver's bonny_."

Despite how beautiful and angelic Karen's voice was, Kenny could tell she was making her decent into sleepiness. But she sang out strong anyway. "_Heaven's higher than a tree, Sing ninety-nine and ninety; And Hell is deeper than the sea, And I'm the weaver's bonny_."

Distantly Kenny heard the front door of the house open, but decided ultimately he didn't really care, and instead went on with his verse. "_What's more innocent than a lamb? Sing ninety-nine and ninety; What is darker than all mankind? Say I'm the weaver's bonny._"

Karen sang back, "_A babe is more innocent than a lamb, Sing ninety-nine and ninety; The devil's darker than all mankind, And I'm the weaver's bonny_."

The sounds of their father's footsteps stopped outside the door, but still Kenny didn't care. "_What is rounder than the ring, Sing ninety-nine and ninety; To me your answers you must bring, Sing I'm the weaver's bonny_."

Karen's voice grew softer. She was beginning to drift away to sleep, but even still, she finished her verse. "_The world is rounder than the ring,_  
_Sing ninety-nine and ninety; To you my answers I did bring, And I'm the weaver's bonny_."

Kenny smiled down at his little sister, who began to drift off softly into dreams. "_You've answered me these questions nine, Sing ninety-nine and ninety; You are God's, you're not my own, And you're the weaver's bonny_."

* * *

"Are you sure about this? What if it backfires or something?"

"Then we don't get paid, so we don't have a choice! As soon as we get rid of this book the better, so let's get it over with."

"Ah, thank you kindly for returning here, gentleman. Now we can proceed without interruption. I believe I showed you where to read from before?"

"Yeah yeah..."

"Ahem. _The Priest shall lead the deep ones to glorious conquest. The shadows of Nightmare will be their weapons. The voices beneath will call forth and swallow the world. The dweller in the darkness, the bringer of omen, the thing that should not be, will bring about the End of the beginning and the beginning of the End. __And then the world will be awash in Nightmare and the Priest shall awaken to guide the old ones to their rightful throne upon the bones of humanity. I summon you forth-_ AAAUUUGHHHH!"

"C-Chaos? Professor Chaos!? ...BUTTERS! What's happening!?"

"..."

Silence greeted them, accompanied by thick darkness. Then, in a voice that no one knew, it spoke.

_Thank you for calling me forth from my prisonnn..._

"My lord, I would have gladly served as your vessel-"

_Silence. This vessel is better suited to my desires. You, manchild. Come forward._

"Y-yes?"

_What is your name?_

"D-Disarray..."

_An interesting name for a mortal. You are to be the carrier of the book. You shall read from it only when instructed, and you will not speak of the book, nor myself, to anyone._

"B-but I don't understand. How...? And... who... who are you?"

_I am known by many names. You may call me the Harbinger, in your language._

"Harbinger? W-why are you called that?"

_Because I shall bring about the beginning of the End._

* * *

**End of Arc 1**

* * *

_Author's Notes: And thus ends Arc 1. A lot of stuff is going to hit the fan soon, too. I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I should mention that some of the things from both South Park and the Lovecraft "pantheon" have been modified to suit the needs of the story. You'll notice subtle changes, but everything should still be recognizable.  
_

_In addition to the common triad of Heaven/Hell/Limbo, I've added a few more levels to the afterlife. I'll get more in-depth with that and how it ties into everything in later chapters. And as promised, I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. I'm sure some of you will be a little perturbed or intrigued by the ending here. I kept it as dialogue-specific to give it more of that "listening in" sort of feeling without revealing very much. Something that will hint at later chapters.  
_

_I'll be firing up Arc 2 very soon, have no fear. I've already started working on the first couple of chapters so the next chapter should be up pretty soon. Thanks to everyone who has provided such awesome feedback so far. I'm serious, it really helps push me to keep writing. Sorta the extra boost that helps me dish out more of what I hope will become a legendary story.  
_


	7. The Quiet Before the Storm

**South Park - The Voices Beneath**

* * *

_Author's Forward: I would like to thank everyone for the kind, positive and beautiful feedback about Arc 1. I seriously cannot express how awesome you guys are. Really, you all rock._

_So I would like to welcome everyone to chapter 7, the first chapter of Arc 2. Something I should note is that all of the titles of the Arcs are in Latin. Arc 1 was Memento Mori. For those who don't know, the phrase translates to "Remember The Death" or "Remember Your Mortality". Arc 2, called Mendacium Et Veritas, means "Falsehood and Truth". Each title has something to do with the chapters and the overall story. Just a fun fact for anyone curious.  
_

_Thus far, there are now 6 arcs planned (now that I have everything fully plotted). So it will indeed be a long story and I promise it will be a lot of fun. I'm not going to give anything away but I will say that Arc 2 is going to deal a lot more with ancient history and how it ties in with the coming trouble. Some things, such as ancient languages, are made up and some are translated out of other old languages, but not necessarily accurate. In any case, take it at entertainment value.  
_

_Thank you all again, and now here's Arc 2.  
_

* * *

**Disclaimer: South Park and all related characters and ideas are (c) Matt Stone and Trey Parker; other copyrighted characters and ideas are property of their respective license holders. Any original content, plot ideas, etc. are of my own work and not being used for profit. **

**The following story will contain strong language, adult themes, bad puns and copious amounts of unadulterated insanity.**

**Enter at your own risk.**

* * *

**Arc 2 - MENDACIUM ET VERITAS**

* * *

Ever since I started flying and expanding my... uh... power I guess, I've noticed stuff that the other guys don't seem to see. Or if they do, they don't say anything about it. I guess I first started noticing it a few years ago with Eraser. There's a lot of other instances where I've noticed this, but that one I think is probably the most recent. Or if it's not, I can't really tell.

So it's sorta like the memories or events are tampered with. I don't really know how, but I know they have to be. This one specific example I'm giving is of the time that the Eraser blew up a building and the Coon got himself thrown out of the League. The situation was that the Coon was fighting Eraser, then there was me, Toolshed, Tupperware and Mysterion trying to get close enough to apprehend the guy. So _that_ I remember very clearly. The next part is different. Like... doctored. I don't know if that makes sense. I swear there was a gunshot but I can't seem to remember it very well. Sorta like there's an echo of one but I can't see it in my head anymore. And I remember being angry... well furious, really. The next thing I remember is Toolshed throwing a wrench at the guy and knocking him out. Then we had him locked up and Mysterion was so pissed that he threw the Coon out of the League.

The meeting we had after that we talked about having more protection under our gear. And for some reason, Toolshed and Tupperware and I were _completely_ for it, no hesitation at all. Like, something in my gut told me how bad it would be if someone got shot, even though I've never actually seen that happen. Or... well I don't think I have, but I can't really tell anymore. It's weird, but I just have this feeling that I've seen someone get shot before... like, a lot.

Anyway that's not the only thing that's happened since my ability manifested. The worst part is the dreams. Or nightmares, whatever. Like I mentioned before, sometimes I get these premonitions, sort of. Like... well, like I can catch glimpses of what's coming. And it only ever happens when something bad is going to happen. The first time I had one was eight years ago, the same night the BP/DP oil company unleashed Cthulhu. I didn't understand it at the time so I just kept my mouth shut. But it keeps happening. It's happened several times, and most times, they come true.

Except one. The one I've had over and over again ever since Cthulhu was banished. I always have a hard time seeing what's going on in that nightmare, but I think I've got the gist of it now. Normally when I get the dreams, whatever happens in the dream happens within a few days, a week at most. This one is different. It's always the same, never changes, and I've been having it for years. The nightmare itself... well, I hope it's just a dream. Because I swear I'm watching the End of the world. And it's bloody.

But that's not the only thing I see. Whenever I see the End, I see it in South Park. I always see the League standing at the "gates" so to speak, but I never see the outcome. I hope it's positive. But rationally, I know it's probably not.

I do know that we're standing at the edge of a coming storm. I think it's like a hurricane. If we are going to weather the storm, we have to work as a team.

And I plan to get out of it, dead or alive.

* * *

**The Quiet Before the Storm  
**

* * *

Friday night had been completely insane, even by Kyle's standards. The meeting, and everything they discussed, made Kyle's head spin. Eight years of fighting crime, and seventeen years of seeing all the crazy shit that happened in South Park didn't quite prepare him for the things they were getting into. Hearing that Stan had been chased by some crazy cultist and fucking shot at, and that Cartman was possessed by some fucking dark whatever, on top of the Heidi situation... well, things were starting to get huge. So when Mysterion had told him that they needed more help, and that he was inducting the Coon back into the League, of course he was going to be skeptical at first.

But Mysterion had a valid point, and Kyle was nothing if not reasonable. Whatever they were getting themselves into, it had to be huge. It was nothing like anything they'd faced before, and the more help they could get, the better off they'd be. Even if that meant he had to put up with the Coon again, much to his immense distaste.

Even still, some of the things Cartman had said during their meetup had put him on edge. Hearing about those whispers, and whatever it was that possessed him just by hearing a guy speak... well that was creepy. Really creepy.

The whole thing just kept going through Kyle's head later that night as he tried to sleep, but it just wasn't happening. Apparently Ike was having difficulty too, because at some time well after midnight, he crept into Kyle's room.

"You awake?" Ike asked in a hushed voice. Kyle sat up.

"Yeah, what's up?"

Ike made his way over to Kyle's computer chair and sat, pulling one leg up towards his chest and resting his elbow on it. "Can't sleep," he murmured. "I had a hard time sleeping last night too."

"Yeah, me too," Kyle said softly. "This whole situation is a lot to handle."

"What do you think is gonna happen?"

"I... I really don't know. I wish I did. Hell I just wish I knew what the fuck was going on."

Ike was silent for several minutes. "What about... You know, the dreams?" he asked cautiously. Kyle had confided in his little brother a few years before on the condition that no one could know. And Ike had faithfully kept the secret. Kyle swallowed hard. He couldn't deny that they'd been coming more frequently, and what he saw was always a good deal more violent than the last one.

"I uh... yeah, I've been having the nightmare. The recurring one," Kyle admitted. He hadn't been able to tell Stan or Kenny anything about the dreams. Just the simple fact that there was no discernible reason or rationale behind the dreams kept him from bringing it up. He didn't want the guys looking into something just because it gave him a bad feeling. There was no logic in it. But he had to confide in someone, so he talked to Ike. Ike was good at keeping secrets, despite his unfortunate habit of rambling.

It sort of helped that Ike knew exactly why Kyle was so on edge about it. He'd been in the League for nearly three years. He'd known about their activities for a good deal longer than that though, and Kyle had only allowed him to join the group on the sole condition that he stayed completely out of combat where it was not absolutely necessary. And, since Ike was more of a computer genius than a fighting master anyway, he was the League's eyes, ears, and tech specialist. Ike had made many useful modifications to everyone's gear. He'd actually helped Token design Biotic's suit of armor and added spring-loaded knives to Mysterion's boots. He didn't get to use them often, but they were pretty cool. Much of Toolshed's arsenal was modified heavily, all of it by Ike. The augmented power drills, the modified reciprocating saw, and something else in the works that he was keeping a surprise. Toolshed was anxious to see it, Kyle knew.

And in all the time Ike had been in the League, he'd seen a lot of the insane shit they had to deal with in a way that no one else ever did.

"Maybe you should at the very least mention it to one of the guys," Ike said slowly, and before Kyle could protest, held his hands up. "Now hear me out first, okay? Look, you told me that you've had the dreams and you've seen stuff happen, and then it actually _did_ happen. If that's the case and your gift could help the League head off anything seriously bad, don't you think it's at least worth looking into?"

Kyle glowered at the wall. "It's not a reasonable tool," he said. "Relying one something that could just as easily be chalked up to superstition could get someone hurt. I mean think about it, what possible proof is there that what I'm seeing is actually some kind of premonition?"

"Where's the proof that it's not?"

Kyle opened and closed his mouth a few times. Ike had a valid point as well, there was no real proof for or against the theory that his dreams were precognitive. Even still, it was illogical to take stock in dreams. But Ike was right, anything that would give them a boost...

"I'll run it past Stan and Kenny sometime soon," he finally muttered in agreement. He ruffled Ike's hair, who swatted his hand away. "You're too damn smart for your own good, you know?"

"Heh, yeah." Ike sighed. "But seriously Kyle. I just don't know what to think about all this. First the suicide, now this whole thing with Cartman... I found something, about that verse. It's uh... not pretty."

Kyle's eyebrows shot up. "What was it?"

Ike sighed heavily. "Well it's a passage from a really old book. The way Cartman said it is translated to English, but I don't think the book itself is actually _written_ in English." Ike sighed. Even through the semi darkness, Kyle could see a somber expression on his little brother's face.

"What do you mean?" Kyle asked with an eyebrow raised.

Ike chewed on his words for a moment. "I was doing some cross-referencing since I couldn't sleep. The words... I think they're from a really old book. But wherever that book goes it causes nothing but trouble."

"That doesn't sound good."

"It never is. And by trouble I mean people _die_." Ike shook his head. "I dunno man, it's just... we could be into something _huge_ you know? We've gone up against psychos, villains, gangs, drug rings... but this feels like something beyond anything we've ever done before. I just have this feeling that it could get some of us killed."

Kyle nodded. "Don't worry about it too much, Ike. We're the League of Heroes, we're the ones that stand up to shit like this. We'll make it through."

_I hope_... he thought at the end of his sentence. And really, that was all any of them could do. They could fight, and they could hope. They'd need to hold on to both.

_-x-0-x-_

When Kyle did finally fall asleep, his dreams were troubled. Well, "dreams" wasn't the right word. It was another nightmare. He hated the nightmares. He hadn't had a real, proper dream since he was fourteen. Now it was all gloom and doom forcing its way through his head every god damn night. It was the worst.

That night was no different than any other night. He saw himself, or really he saw the Human Kite, standing among the line of heroes. They all stood defiantly against a blazing fire that threatened to consume everything. The bright green question mark was at the front of them, and it began to bleed. The fire was bearing down, it threatened to overtake them and scorch them into the next life. Inky shadow surrounded them, mists filled with a cold gray laughter. Great yellow slitted eyes and a thousand horrible tentacles loomed through the shadow.

And then someone was dying. Over and over again. Blood splattered and splashed. The mist claimed the question mark over and over, and every time a brilliant light brought it back. Even in the face of the raging hellfire, the mark burned green and defiant.

And then shadow claimed everything.

Kyle woke with a start. He shot straight upright in bed, sweat pouring from his forehead. God he hated that. The nightmare would overtake him and ruin whatever sleep he was going to have. Ugh. Slowly he rubbed his forehead, trying to massage away the visions that were burned into the backs of his eyelids. The blood... why the fuck was there so much blood?

After a few moments of silence where he managed to wrangle his thundering heart back down to an acceptable pace, he fixed his eyes on the clock - 9:30 am.

"Holy shit I slept in?" he asked aloud to no one in particular, then resigned himself to drag his ass out of bed and get the day started. He had a date, it wouldn't do to mope around the house until the League meeting that night. So once he steeled himself and calmed his rattled nerves, he made his way to the shower. The hot water helped to relax away the tension. It was practically necessary every morning, ever since the nightmares... the _visions_ had started. A nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he _needed_ to tell someone. But who the fuck could he tell?

He finished his shower, toweled off, and dressed. He felt completely ridiculous being so concerned over what he was planning to wear that day, but fuck, this was the first real date he'd had since he'd broken up with Sally. And seriously, Lola was a great girl. He really wanted to impress her, and showing up in an old orange hoodie was definitely not going to do it. He spent a good fifteen minutes in front of his closet, staring hopelessly at the contents, until he at last settled on a white and gray button-down shirt over a white t-shirt, a pair of faded blue jeans, and his favorite converse sneakers. He went to pull on his ushanka but stopped, knowing that Bebe would kill him if she found out that she'd cut his hair and he'd hidden it under his old hat. So he resigned himself to turn up hat-less, and just keep it in the car in case he really wanted it.

Once dressed he made his way downstairs, where his mother and Ike were already sitting at the breakfast table.

"Morning guys," he said almost cheerfully and slid into his seat.

"Good morning Kyle. My you look awfully nice today bubbeleh, are you going somewhere?"

"Yeah, I'm going for coffee with a uh... a girl from school."

"You have a date!?"

"Sorta I guess," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. He nibbled on a piece of toast, fully intending to tune out whatever his mother planned to say. Something about it being fantastic that he finally had a new girlfriend and blah blah blah. "Oh and I'm gonna hang out with the guys tonight for awhile."

"Well that's fine, just make sure you call me if you're going to be staying out late."

Kyle finished his toast, bid the two goodbye, and headed out. He climbed into the Buick and fired it up. It wasn't exactly a hot rod. It wasn't really a luxury vehicle, either. But it got him from A to B, so it was practical enough for him to not care how crappy it was. At least on the bright side, it wasn't as crappy as Stan's car, and that was pretty bad. But then again, it ran.

He arrived at the coffee place early. They'd decided on meeting up at Tweak Bros. instead of Java Connect where Stan worked, just because it would be totally awkward to have Stan hanging around and working while Kyle was on a date. He headed in early, ordered his Latte, and sat at a small table near the wall and the large front window. He pulled out his phone, content to read up on the news while he waited.

Kyle didn't have to wait long. Perhaps two minutes into the story he was flipping through, motion out of the corner of his eye drew his attention to Lola, who arrived almost as early as he did. For a flash of a second she looked nearly as nervous as he felt, but it melted when she caught his eye. He grinned somewhat sheepishly and she smiled serenely, ordered her coffee, and sat down opposite him at the small table.

Lola Stewart had been one of the popular girls, ever since the youth of South Park had been old enough to form cliques. She was pretty, with long dark hair and warm brown eyes; she was outgoing, cheerful, and kind. She was a cheerleader like Bebe. And even though Kyle couldn't really bring himself to get into the whole popular high school scene, he'd liked Lola since middle school. It wasn't because she was attractive though. Okay well that was part of it. But what really set him off about her was one very specific time they'd been in deep discussion during study hall in the seventh grade about the ethical ramifications of rainforest clearing. She'd been able to hold an intelligent conversation with him for the entire class period without a single air-headed or dim-witted comment.

She smiled brightly as she settled into her chair. "Hey," she said after taking a sip from the frothy cappuccino in her green mug.

"Hi," he replied, gripping his own blue mug in both hands. "You look really nice," he commented with a smile. She was dressed in a simple white short-sleeved button down blouse, a black mini skirt, and knee-high boots. Her brown hair was swept back into a low elegant ponytail.

"So do you, I heard Bebe cut your hair. It looks good," Lola grinned. "I love the coffee here," she said after another sip.

"Yeah it's pretty good."

"So I noticed that you've gotten really good at basketball."

"I... oh, yeah," he said, somewhat taken aback. He didn't think she would have taken any interest in the one sport he played. But, then again, she was a cheerleader. It was kind of her job. "Yeah I guess. It's not really that big a deal to me." He shrugged.

"Yeah I didn't figure it would be. You strike me as more of an intellectual." She took another sip from the mug. "Into computers and stuff."

He grinned again. "Yeah, something like that." He took a gulp from his own coffee. "So what else are you interested in? I mean besides cheerleading and... uh... stuff."

She giggled. "Well, I really like books. Umm I like pottery, flower arrangement, obviously shopping. Hmm... well lots of different things." She took another sip and grinned. "Academia too. And I'm actually _really_ into Ancient History. It's fascinating."

"Yeah?" Their conversation went on for at least two more hours, back and forth, discussing all number of things from hobbies to movies and music, to the latest research studies. And the more they talked, the more Kyle was taken with her. She was much smarter than she let on, but a lot of the girls his age were. Still, her uncanny wit, clear intellect and bright personality were god damn intoxicating.

1:30 rolled around and Kyle felt his stomach growl. "So would you be opposed to... getting lunch?"

Lola smiled brightly. "Not at all." The pair stood and strode out, talking and laughing together. They headed to a nearby bakery, where they ordered sandwiches to go and walked, and ate, and talked and laughed even more. They headed to the park to sit while they finished eating, seated side-by-side on the bench. They both finished their sandwiches, and Lola nudged Kyle gently and beamed.

"This was a lot of fun," she grinned. They stood again and she linked her arm with his.

He chuckled. "Yeah, yeah I would definitely have to agree," he said as they strode through the bright, warm mid-day sun. "I think I'd definitely want to do this again... I mean if you're up for it."

"I think I'd definitely be up for it," she replied amiably and giggled. "Well hey, let me get your number," she said, holding out her phone for him to take. He tapped in his number and handed it back, and she promptly texted him a smiley-face. "I've got plans this weekend, I'm heading out camping with my parents but I should be back on Tuesday."

"How about dinner Tuesday night? I can pick you up if you don't mind being seen in a crappy car."

She giggled again. "That sounds fine. I'm off at six, so I should be ready to go by 6:30."

They made their way back to the coffee shop's parking lot, where he walked her over to her car.

"So uh... I'll see you Tuesday then?"

"Tuesday it is. I had a really nice time today, Kyle," she said as they reached her car door. She turned and kissed him softly on the cheek, flashed him another beautiful smile, and climbed into the car. With his heart thundering in his chest, he couldn't control the broad beaming grin that spread across his face. He could jump for joy if it didn't make people around him think he was a moron. Hell, if he had his gear, he'd have jumped off a building to fly from all the adrenalin coursing through him.

He waved her off and turned, and not a heartbeat later the sounds of hissing drew his attention. Stan's car pulled up, where both Stan and Kenny were leaning out their windows.

"Dude your face is the same color as your hair, you alright?" Stan grinned. Kyle rolled his eyes at him.

"Ha ha."

"Bet he got a kiss and his blood can't remember where to rush," Kenny snickered. Both boys burst into a fit of laughter that only left Kyle chuckling and shaking his head.

"Funny."

"No but seriously dude, how'd it go?" Stan asked. He and Kenny jumped out of the car and the three boys strolled down the sidewalk, where Kyle regaled them of every detail of his date.

"Well seriously then dude, congratulations on not fucking up your first date," Stan said, expressing genuine happiness for his friend. Kyle chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Well thanks then."

"So did you get a second date?" Kenny asked and nudged him.

"Yeah, I did actually, on Tuesday night. We're going to dinner," Kyle replied matter-of-factly.

"Very nice, congrats man," Kenny said brightly. "So."

"So."

"What say you two to some training at the base?"

"Sounds good to me," Stan replied with a nod.

"Yup," Kyle added.

They set off then, heading back for the coffee shop parking lot, where they all piled into Stan's car, agreeing that two cars heading down the dirt road to the base would be more suspicious. As they pulled up, expecting to be the only ones there except Wendy, who'd stayed with Stan in the barracks overnight, they were surprised to find someone sitting on the front step, arms folded, staring irritably at the sky. They pulled into the garage and once they emerged, all three of them stared in curiosity.

"Dude, Cartman, what're you doing here so early?" Stan asked as they approached the front door of the base.

Cartman glanced up at them. "What's it look like? Waiting for you guys. I'm not allowed to have a code."

Kenny arched an eyebrow. "Dude the meeting doesn't start for another three hours."

"Whatever, I wanted to show up early. Nothin' better to do."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Well move then so I can open the door." With a glare Cartman did, pushing himself up to his feet and slinging his bag onto his shoulder. Kyle pushed past him, punched in the door code, and stepped through the door as it swung forward.

"Guess we can show you the barracks. You can take one of the spare bunks," Kenny said, and led the way up the staircase. The barracks were empty, except for Wendy who was seated on the floor beside her bunk, papers spread out in front of her and her laptop open. She didn't notice them as they entered the room, her gray eyes transfixed by whatever she was reading on the screen.

Stan trotted across the room quickly and sat on her bed, handing her a sack of food. She glanced up at him and smiled. "Thanks Stan. Hey guys," she greeted the rest of them.

"Hey Wendy," Kyle replied and made his way to his own bunk to begin digging through his wardrobe. Kenny had already opened his and started pulling out pieces of his gear, stripping down to his boxers as he went. While Kyle was a bit modest, Kenny was definitely not, and despite Wendy's presence, he started changing his clothes without hesitation. If it was just the guys Kyle would have too, except Wendy made him a bit awkward. Not because she was a girl, but because she was his best friend's girlfriend and he felt awkward being mostly naked anywhere near her.

So he pulled some of his gear out of his wardrobe and headed for one of the six changing rooms. He quickly stripped down, pulling on his dark teal underarmor, gray flight pants, and blue shirt. He returned to the main barracks, carrying his street clothes, which he dumped unceremoniously into the wardrobe. Then he pulled on his shoes and slipped on the harness that connected him to his kite. He clasped it in place and, satisfactorily geared, sat on his bed and waited for the others to finish changing.

"You guys gonna do some training?" Wendy asked without shifting her eyes from her computer screen. She'd gotten so used to Stan and Kenny changing right in front of her that it hardly seemed to faze her anymore.

"Yeah out in the yard if you want to join," Kenny replied. He was pulling the off-purple fitted shirt over his head, then set to work buckling his belt. Of all of them, Kenny was the one with the costume that really resembled a comic-book hero. He'd stopped wearing the briefs over his pants back in the seventh grade, instead replacing it with a dark purple piece that was the same shade as his cape. His shirt and pants were both much tighter than the rest of them, form-fitting. It was probably why he was able to hide his identity so easily. Kenny's typical attire consisted of baggy pants, a t-shirt that was a half-size too large, and a hat that usually obscured his dark blond hair. Few people were aware of how muscular Kenny actually was.

"Sounds like fun," Wendy said, and closed her laptop. Stan stood and crossed over to his own wardrobe and set to work stripping down to his boxers.

Once they'd all finished changing, including Cartman who'd donned his Coon outfit, which really hadn't changed at all since they were kids, they made their way downstairs again and out into the training yard. The field behind the base was huge, sitting just on the edge of the woods that the logging company had used before a fire had put them out of business. The forest had since regrown, and was now thick and untamed around the field. They'd been careful about making sure the trees didn't overtake their practice field and used whatever spare lumber they had to uproot to make repairs and additions to the base.

The field itself was large and completely shielded from view by the wildly overgrown trees. There were targets set up at the far end, sparring dummies, practice circles, work benches, and even some sport equipment for whenever they felt like letting loose and having fun. The five of them set to work with training. Stan made his way over to one of the practice circles with Kenny and the two began to spar. Wendy made use of one of the practice dummies, working out a few new tricks she'd picked up from somewhere. Kyle, on the other hand, headed over to the ladder. Since he'd learned to fly, they'd set up a platform about fifteen feet off the ground for him to take off from. He climbed to the platform and paced the length of it. It was a good ten feet long, which was plenty of room for him to get a good running start.

He backed up to the edge again, inhaled, turned and sprinted, then leaped with all his might off the far edge. He slapped the release and the kite brought him soaring upwards, arcing up away from the ground and towards the sky. "Woo!" he shouted as addictive adrenalin coursed through his veins.

Kyle made a pass around the far side of the field towards the forest, peering down into its shadowy depths. The woods beyond the base always gave him the creeps, but only because the boys' wild imaginations (or specifically Cartman's) had dreamed up a small cluster of completely fucking insane woodland creatures that would dwell there, and he hated to think what actually did live there.

He tugged the loops and arced himself upwards, then shifted into a downward streak. At the last second he pulled up again, shooting away from the ground after just missing it by only a foot. He shot past Wendy, who ducked without even thinking. He made one more pass and pulled into another dive, slapped the button, and rolled to a neat finish as soon as he touched the ground. "Hey Toolshed!" Kyle called, well aware that he'd be able to hear him over the wire.

"What's up?"

"Wanna try the Tarzan thing?" Kyle asked as he trotted over towards the practice circle.

"...Dude. Yes." Stan's face spread into a delighted grin.

Kenny glanced between the pair of them. "Tarzan what now?" he asked with an eyebrow arched.

"We'll show you, let's see if it works," Stan said. He and Kyle made their way over to the ladder and ascended up to the platform. "Okay so how're we gonna do this?"

Kyle chewed it over for a moment. "Okay well let's do this. I'll take off and lower the grappling rope. Once I get enough altitude I'll make a pass. You have to jump and catch the rope, _and _ swing, and then let go. Erm... we should probably get out the big pillow thing I used to practice with."

Kenny made his way over to the shed where they stored their unused equipment, and returned a few minutes later with the massive air mattress and its pump. After about a minute of steady pumping it was inflated and he situated it roughly where Kyle calculated Stan would land.

"Don't fuck it up or you'll land right on your face!" Kenny shouted up at Stan, who waved it off.

"We'll be fine. You ready dude?"

Kyle made his way back to the edge again, then sprinted and took off, leaping off the end and the kite shooting out, propelling him up towards the sky. It took him a moment to reach the desired altitude, and once he did, he started lowering the grappling rope. "Okay I'm coming back around, get ready," he said.

"Got it."

Kyle tugged the loop and pulled into a turn, then flew straight, right over the platform. Below him Stan took off at a sprint, and leaped off the edge, his hand reaching for the rope. Kyle's heart was thundering in his chest, because for an instant he thought Stan had missed.

But then Stan's weight shifted the rope and he swung forward hard, then let go. The inertia of his swing launched him up into the air in an arc. "HOLY SHIT!" he shouted, then plummeted to the ground. He landed softly on the airbag, much to everyone's relief.

Kyle rewound the rope to the spool and landed again, then sprinted over to see if Stan was okay.

Stan climbed off of the air mattress, laughing hysterically. "Dude, that was AWESOME!" he shouted.

Kenny was grinning. "That was pretty cool. Just not sure how it'll work in the field without an airbag to catch your ass."

"Eh we'll figure it out. But dude at least we know it can work."

_-x-0-x-_

They spent the next few hours discussing the possibilities of the Tarzan move, until 6:15 rolled around, then made their way back inside. Cartman was in the meeting room, sitting at the table with a pad of paper in front of him, pen in hand, going over whatever he'd written down. Mosquito and the Mole had arrived while they'd been outside as well, and both of them were now also in the meeting room, talking about something sports-related. Sentinel and Iron Maiden were at their usual positions. All that was missing was Biotic, but the sounds of walking from the floor above them told Kyle that he was there, just not in the room yet.

StrikeForce ascended the stairs and returned a few minutes later with Biotic in tow and her laptop under her arm. Whatever she'd found, apparently it was worth sharing. Finally gathered, the team sat in their usual places around the table, and the meeting was set to begin.

"Okay," Mysterion began. "So, this week has been, for lack of a better word, fucked up."

"Agreed," Kite said with a nod.

"Since what we're onto here is definitely out of the realm of our usual work, we need to put more resources into finding the cause and putting a stop to it. So we'll probably have more meetings and research to try and get all this shit together. For now I want to get a recap going so we have a starting point for tonight's meeting.

"It started on Wednesday, don't quite know an approximate time. We do know that around eight pm, Heidi Turner went insane and went on a killing spree inside the mall. She claimed 13 victims before taking her own life. So far this is the central event for now, we in agreement on that?"

A murmur of consensus went around the table.

"Okay, so we've got a few things linked to this situation. First thing is Mr. Havoc, or White Suit. What do we know about him?"

"We know he's in Yates' ear and that he's manipulating him," Biotic spoke up. "Found out this morning that there's more Anti-League propaganda coming out of Yates' mouth lately. Not sure what the goal is but he's trying to rally other cops against us."

"Great," Mysterion muttered. "Okay so he's doing something to the cops. What else?"

Toolshed spoke up next. "We know that he's got something to do with Chaos, Disarray, and possibly the cult. But whether or not the murder-suicide and the book stealing incident are related beyond Havoc's involvement is still unknown."

"We know his voice isn't normal," the Coon said. "He could be a uh... you know. One of those monsters."

Mysterion looked somewhat annoyed by the comment, though not necessarily at the Coon. Ever since they were kids, he and the Cthulhu cult had always been in contention. The self-proclaimed leader of the South Park chapter of the cult, James "Jim" McElroy, had always made a point of calling Mysterion out whenever the cult got up to something. A few times they'd tried to have their rituals in the middle of town, and once or twice had sacrificed animals in public. But there was a huge different between killing a goat and driving a young woman insane and making her kill a bunch of people. "Maybe. Coon please go over everything you remember from Thursday and Friday."

The Coon cleared his throat and began to read off from his note pad, detailing following Butters into the alley, the discussion between Butters and Dougie, and the appearance of the man referred to as Mr. Havoc. He described as best he could the details of the whispering voices, the hallucinations, the blackouts and loss of time, and finally coming out of it at the construction site.

Toolshed shook his head. "God that is some seriously fucked up stuff. He could be like a demon or something."

"Let's not rule anything out, but for now we're considering him an unknown threat," Mysterion said after a moment of silence. "What else have we got that Havoc is connected to?"

"The book," StrikeForce said. "He was present when Chaos and Disarray were going to read from it, so I think it's safe to assume he's got something to do with it."

"Okay so let's start there. What do we know about the book?"

Sentinel cleared his throat. "I found some stuff out last night and this morning. The book is an old Latin translation of an _old_ script that dates back to something like three thousand years B.C., maybe older. Something called the _Sataru Labiru Isten Sumsu Ultu Ulla Mitu_. In Latin it's called _Librum Rerum Veterum Nominavit Transiui_, and in English-"

"The Book of Ancient Names Passed," Mysterion finished blankly. "Or more commonly known as the Book of the Dead."

The table was silent for a moment. "You mean... the _Necronomicon_?" Mosquito asked at last.

"Not exactly," Sentinel said. "The Necronomicon was written about 730 A.D. by Abdul Alhazred. That much we know about it, and that there's at least a dozen copies translated into various languages. The Book of the Dead is waaaay older."

"How old are we talking here?" Biotic asked tentatively.

"It pre-dates all known religious texts by at least a thousand years. The original script consists of about a hundred tablets that were found inside an ancient temple underneath the ruins of the ancient city of Eridu. The tablets were uncovered by Roman forces and translated sometime in the late first century by a group of unknown archaeologists. There's a legend that says that each man was only able to translate ten tablets and that each tablet took up ten pages, and that as soon as they finished their translation the entire group was executed."

"That's... wow," Biotic said with a low whistle.

"So the myth of this book is that it started out as a series of a hundred tablets written by thirteen priests in the ancient Sumer civilization, but the contents of the script is largely up for debate, and I'm not exactly sure if it even has anything to do with-" Kyle cleared his throat audibly. "Oh right, sorry. So the myth goes that the script is both a history and a prophecy that describes the destruction of Eridu and later the entire Sumerian and Akkadian empires. Anyone who reads aloud whole portions of the script is said to be cursed.

"I also found out that this book has popped up a few times throughout history, and every time it does shit goes down. Like really bad stuff. Rebellions, wars, genocides, destroying entire civilizations. Seriously bad stuff."

"So it's safe to assume this book is really bad news."

"Right, and if it's in South Park..."

StrikeForce cleared her throat. "I was doing some research last night too. I checked out which exhibit was robbed at the museum. It's the Ancient Mesopotamian exhibit. The only thing stolen was an old book that contained both a Latin translation of the original tablets _and_ the actual rubbings from the tablets themselves. The book has been going around the world in museums for decades. It was recovered in Germany in the mid 40's and taken to the U.K. and put on display." She paused for a moment, chewing her lower lip. "And I also found a side note. There's special instruction that the book is to be showcased inside of glass at all times, never touched directly and _never_ to be opened."

Silence fell over them for several long minutes. If Kyle's head had been spinning before, he was dizzy as hell now. The entire thing felt... surreal. Like it couldn't be real, it had to be a dream. But he knew it wasn't. The others glanced at one another, waiting for someone to speak up. But they were so overwhelmed with the knowledge of what they were just stepping into that no one had any words. It was like they were going to swim an ocean and they'd only put one foot into the water.

"This is fucked up," the Coon said at last.

"Okay, so the book is bad news. Chaos got ahold of said book, so we need to get it away from him if he's messing around with Havoc and possibly the cult. So let's see what else we're looking at here for threats and figure out how to head them off before shit gets bad."

"We need to know if zee Heidi incident ees going to be an isolated issue," the Mole spoke up, chewing on his cigar. "If not, zat will be some'sing else we need to be concerned with."

"That's a good point," Mysterion conceded. "But without any more information we're sort of dead in the water. Let's pick it up once we get more intel. New topic for now. Sentinel you have the floor."

Sentinel stood, looking immensely pleased with himself. "Okay guys, me and Iron Maiden have been working on a new tech system for about six months now and it's finally ready for field testing. I give you the Active Remote Console, or the ARC! I call it the TAC pad." He held the device up, and Kyle was thoroughly impressed. It was fairly small, but large enough to see without strain. The rectangular screen was four inches long. It was sleek and sophisticated and made everyone around the table awe. Sentinel set the nine devices on the table. "We made one for everyone except the Coon 'cause we didn't know you'd be here."

"'Ay!"

"We'll work on yours this week, and your wire too. Since we can communicate through the TAC pads, there's no need to carry around a League phone anymore. We designed each device to be specific to the wearer so it gives everyone unique information based on your combat style, special abilities, etc. So for example, it would give Human Kite readings of altitude, drop distances, necessary speeds, stuff like that, and the interface changes actively with use. The back is attachable to any piece of your gear, so you could attach it safely to your gloves or a wrist band and take it off when you want."

Toolshed whistled. "Damn, that's a nifty piece of machinery there."

"Yup, and because the screen and memory are large enough it can be used to send messages and files. You can plug it into any computer. It has audio recording capabilities and everything can be sent back to a single interface in the main monitoring relay. Oh, and you can sync it with your cell phones so that you don't have to carry it around in street clothes, so if we send out a distress call from base, it sends it to the tac pads which forwards a code to everyone's regular phones."

"Sentinel, Iron Maiden, you have absolutely fucking outdone yourselves," Mysterion said with a wide grin. "Seriously fucking fantastic."

Sentinel beamed. "Well I figured we needed to replace some of the outdated crap we used, and Iron Maiden thought a central system would be better than keeping track of a bunch of phones."

"Well awesome work," Mosquito said as Sentinel passed the TAC pads around.

"I think that brings us to our last topic tonight. We need to work out a new system of code words. Like bad."

"Oh, Iron Maiden actually worked that out," Sentinel said once he returned to his seat. "He came up with a simple system to talk publicly that doesn't give anything away. Pretty genius actually."

Iron Maiden, with Sentinel's help, proceeded to explain how his coded system worked by integrating uncommon but inconspicuous word groups into their vocabulary to refer to things such as patrols, various degrees and types of crime, and League activites. Their TAC pads each dinged softly as the listed words were uploaded into the database.

"Alright so I think we should wrap it up here for the meeting and get set for patrols. Everyone be on the lookout for suspicious activity like Heidi. If we can head off further incidents we can hopefully get ahead of this thing. I'll hand out assignments for the week once we get back from patrol. Whole city tonight, we need to make sure our presence is still highly visible, and the cops can go fuck themselves if they don't like it."

_-x-0-x-_

The week passed with almost no suspicious activity. There was the occasional crackhead, a few muggings, but overall, the entire county was completely silent. A second week passed, and a third, until finally July rolled around. And then, still, it was silent as a grave.

The entire month that passed was spent mostly doing research. For Kyle this was ten-fold, because not only did he prefer spending his day with his nose in a book anyway but also because he worked at the library. Park County Library had an impressive collection of ancient lore and books on historical theory, and he spent much of his down time at work in the back, skimming every book he could for any mention or slight hint at what they were dealing with.

But the month wasn't all bad. After his first date with Lola, he'd earned himself a second, third, fourth and fifth dates, and then he just stopped counting. His days were filled with research, League activities, and Lola. On the day of the Summer Solstice, they'd had the "going steady" conversation and had decided that they were, in fact, going steady as a couple.

That meaning that Kyle finally had a girlfriend again.

And she was absolutely fascinating. Aside from being beautiful, active, popular and smart, she was great to talk to. They spent hours upon hours chatting away over dinner, coffee, deserts, walks, whenever they had time together. Whenever Kyle wasn't doing League work, at the Library, or spending time with the guys, it was a sure bet he'd be found with Lola.

The first week of July was fantastic. Kyle and Lola shared their first kiss (or rather, makeout session) behind the Library one day when she'd come over to see him while he was at work and the pair were both dealing with some frustration, which dissipated pretty easily with all the kissing and grabbing they did. He'd been heading out for a break when she caught him on the front steps, rushed up to him and hugged him tightly.

"You okay?" he asked her gingerly, patting her back.

"Yeah just... ugh. Stress at the shop, my mom's been sorta nutty since my dad is having his mid-life crisis. Just wanted to see you and vent," she said and let out a heavy sight.

"Oh well okay, let's head around back and talk. Then you can vent and we won't get funny stares." He took her hand and the pair strode around to the back of the library beside the large oak, where he liked to go and read, and sat down. "So, go ahead and vent."

Lola sighed again. "Well my dad is in the middle of a mid-life crisis. He keeps going out to these stupid strip clubs and now he wants to buy a Ferrari."

"Oh wow."

"Sometimes I wonder how all the adults in this town can be so... _stupid_, you know?"

He laughed. "Yeah believe me, I know." They lapsed into comfortable silence for a good minute before Lola spoke up again.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For you know... listening and stuff. And being here when I feel like going crazy."

For some strange reason Kyle felt the pit of his stomach twist. "Well I'm not going anywhere, so if you ever need me to vent or whatever-"

She cut him off, capturing his lips in a kiss. The surprise of it caught him off guard, but after several seconds the shock wore away and he closed his eyes to lean deeper into the kiss. It was simple and sweet, bearing both the thanks she wanted to tell him and her gratitude at his presence... and something else Kyle couldn't place but didn't care. She tasted like strawberries and sunlight. They broke apart for maybe a second for air and he reclaimed lost ground again, then pulled her into his lap.

She gripped his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

And then his phone went off.

The broke apart again. "Fuck, that's my alarm," he breathed. She giggled.

"You should get back to work. Text me when you get off, maybe we can go for ice cream or something."

"Yeah that sounds good." She got to her feet and allowed him to stand, and the pair made their way back around to the front of the building once again, where they parted ways.

_-x-0-x-_

They repeated the kissing four more times, in the front seat of his car, behind the Flower Shop, in the park, and against the driver's side door of her car. All in all, it was a good week.

But when the morning 7th rolled around, that changed in a fast way. It was Saturday, and since Kyle had the day off, he intended to sleep in before he had to start working on research again. Those plans were dashed when his phone went off. It rang once loudly and beeped to signal he'd gotten a text. He grabbed it groggily and flicked off the lock on the screen.

_Good morning! Hope u have a good day! See u after work - Lola_

He smiled and set the phone down again. He loved getting her messages in the morning, even if it meant he woke a little earlier than he wanted. His fingers had barely let go of the phone when it rang loudly and beeped again. With an eyebrow raised he picked it back up, unlocked the screen and stared at the message.

_DOWNTOWN NOW, IN PROGRESS BLACK - Iron Maiden_

Without a second thought he leaped out of bed, sprinted to his closet, and dressed as fast as he could. He could hear Ike doing the same in the next room over. They emerged from their rooms at the same time and crept down the stairs. Their parents were both still dead asleep. As they left through the front door and closed it quietly behind them, Kyle caught sight of someone sprinting up the sidewalk.

Kenny approached, living only two doors down from Kyle and next door to Stan, who was right behind him. "Dude what the fuck?" Kenny asked as they came to a stop in front of Kyle and Ike.

"I dunno, let's go," Kyle said, jerked open the driver's side door, unlocked the rest of the doors, and slid into the car. The other three followed suit and piled into the Buick. They pulled out into the street, Kyle driving a little faster than was probably necessary, speeding towards main street and out towards the base. He caught sight of Token's black SUV in his rear-view window, and discovered he was right behind Wendy's little white Toyota. The three cars pulled up and into the garage. Out of Token's car stepped Token, Christophe and Cartman, while Wendy and Clyde jumped out of her car. The group sprinted into the base, up to the barracks to grab their gear, and back down again into the meeting room, where Iron Maiden was already waiting.

"What's going on?" Kenny asked as they entered.

Ike sprinted across the room to the monitoring station, to which Timmy pointed. "Timmy Timmeh Timmeh."

"Dude he's right, she's acting just like Heidi," Ike muttered. "Guys I think this is gonna be a repeat, we need to gear up and respond."

"What's _going on_?" Kenny repeated a little more forcefully.

"I think we're about to have another murder-suicide, same actions. Henrietta Biggle is wandering the streets downtown, babbling insanely to herself and swinging around a knife."

The room went silent for a heartbeat. "Mother fucker," Kenny growled. "Alright gang, suit up. We're putting a stop to this right fucking now."

* * *

Leaving dead or alive... it's kind of scary to think about it. I once told Stan and Kenny that I could feel the air changing.

I think I might have been wrong though. I think the air already changed, and I noticed it too late.

I think whatever is going to happen... we might be too late to stop all of it.

I guess I just hope that we can stop the worst of it. I guess that makes this the beginning of the End.


	8. Symptoms of Psychosis

**South Park - The Voices Beneath  
**

* * *

**Disclaimer: South Park and all related characters and ideas are (c) Matt Stone and Trey Parker; other copyrighted characters and ideas are property of their respective license holders. Any original content, plot ideas, etc. are of my own work and not being used for profit. **

**The following story will contain strong language, adult themes, extreme violence and copious amounts of unadulterated insanity.**

**Enter at your own risk.**

* * *

******Arc 2 - ****MENDACIUM ET VERITAS**

* * *

I have a few names I go by. My friends call me Wendy. My boyfriend calls me beautiful (only when we're alone though, he's such a guy). My teammates call me StrikeForce. I've been StrikeForce for three years now, ever since the day I was kidnapped by the Mind Breaker. But I suppose I should introduce myself first. My name is Wendy Testaburger. I'm seventeen years old, I'm the student body president of South Park High, I've had a boyfriend for almost ten years, my best friend is Bebe Stevens, and I'm a superhero.

It all started three years ago, around two weeks after the first day of high school. I remember it very clearly. I was walking home from school with my best friend Bebe and some of our other friends, and we were talking about superheroes. Specifically, the resident heroes of South Park, the Extreme Avenger League. They had just inducted a new member and we were all discussing which hero we thought was the coolest. For some reason (which I understand now) I was drawn to Toolshed. Lola always said she loved the Human Kite because he was brave enough to actually _fly_ (I have to give kudos to Kyle, it's brilliant that he does that). Of course Bebe has always been fascinated with Mysterion. His whole dark lone watchman persona just turned her into a _total_ fangirl. Actually a lot of the girls were pretty drawn by Mysterion.

Anyway we were about to make plans to head over to Bebe's house to watch some movie that just came out when this guy jumps out at us and seriously started screaming. The noise was absolutely terrible. So loud, and so high-pitched in fact that it actually knocked most of us out. When we came to again, we were stashed in some old run-down factory on the edge of town, chained up and gagged, and this guy is just blabbing _all_ of his plans. Right in front of us. Absolute moron. The other girls were terrified. I think I was more angry than I was afraid.

And, as expected, the League arrived to rescue us. It was the first time I'd ever seen Toolshed up close, and I just knew it was him. And really, it never seriously surprised me that Stan was a superhero. It was just something that was like... "Oh that makes sense." I remember we were kids and he wanted to become an activist and save Terrance and Phillip, and the dolphins, and a hundred other things. That's just what he does... what _all of them_ do. They save people, and it doesn't surprise me in the slightest.

Toolshed tried to break us free but it didn't work. Before he could get very far with it, Mind Breaker showed up and attacked him. The guy flew into an absolute rage and drove the entire League up onto the roof, where this massive battle commenced. Fortunately, Toolshed had loosened the bolts on my shackles enough for me to worm my way loose. I told the other girls I'd be back with help and made my way up to the roof. I just knew deep down that I had to do something. I couldn't just sit by and play the damsel in distress. I can _never_ be the god damn damsel in distress. So I did the only thing I could think of: I jumped into the fight.

I've been in fights before. I've kicked the shit out of Cartman three times now for running his mouth (I didn't do it for the joy, he really _really _needed to be put in his place). And I never mentioned this to Stan, but after the first time, I started taking lessons. I know how to fight, and how to defend myself and others. I learned to use my body as both a weapon and a shield to maximize my attack power and minimize the damage I endure. I was still pretty new at it then. I've improved a hundred fold since then.

It took all of us to bring the bastard down. He was running on pure rage and adrenalin. But when we finally dropped him, the guys were in total shock. Especially Toolshed. I told him I knew who he was, and without a word he just sprinted over to me, hugged me as tight as he could and just kept whispering "I love you," over and over again. I knew this was right. I just had a feeling in my gut that this is what my calling was... what _our _ calling was.

They went down and released the other girls, and the next day Stan took me to the base and proposed that I be made a member. The vote to induct me was unanimous. Then I had to pick a name. A lot of names came up as possibilities, but in the end I chose StrikeForce, and for two reasons. The first was because it sounded pretty cool. StrikeForce, a Force to be reckoned with. Power, precision. That was who I wanted to be.

The second is because of my combat. I believe that the shorter a fight, the less damage comes out of it. Fewer strikes, greater results. StrikeForce means to act with certainty and clarity. And that was the day I became a superhero.

* * *

**Symptoms of Psychosis  
**

* * *

"Guys I think this is gonna be a repeat, we need to gear up and respond."

"What's _going on_?" Kenny asked forcefully.

"I think we're about to have another murder-suicide, same actions. Henrietta Biggle is wandering the streets downtown, babbling insanely to herself and swinging around a knife." Ike turned back to look at them, a look of discomfort on his face.

The room went silent for a heartbeat. "Mother fucker," Kenny growled. "Alright gang, suit up. We're putting a stop to this right fucking now."

They set to work changing, the sudden need and urge for them to gear up overtaking any shyness any of them might have. Everyone stripped down and dressed again as fast as they ever could have possibly hoped. Time was wasting, and every second counted. Kenny was the quickest of them to change, having started shedding his street clothes as he made his way down the stairs into the meeting room. He tossed his jeans and t-shirt onto the back of his chair and pulled on his gear; once finished, Mysterion turned and pulled up his hood. He was geared up before than the rest of them.

"Combat partners are as follows," he said as the rest of them finished off strapping on their own uniforms. "StrikeForce you're with me. Kite and Toolshed you're a team, put that combo of yours to use. Biotic you're with Mosquito, and Mole you get to babysit the Coon."

"'Ay!"

"Don't know what you're beetching about, you're not zee one who 'as to babyseet you," Christophe muttered indignantly.

Stan's face twisted into laughter. He caught Wendy's eye, and his blue eyes said to her, _It's because they're both rodents_. She tried not to laugh.

Wendy was nearly ready. Her costume was fairly simple compared to some of the others. A plain, long-sleeved lavender underarmor shirt beneath a black bulletproof vest that covered up to just below her collar bone and flattened out her breasts to make her appear a little more masculine. With it she wore tight black leggings, knee-high black steel-plated boots, and a silver belt that hung lower on the left side. Her gear was completed by a simple black half-mask that shielded her distinctive gray eyes, a pair of steel-plated fingerless lilac gloves, and her hair tied back into a bun behind her head.

She nodded as Mysterion announced their combat partners. Her face was all business as she turned back, properly geared, and kicked her street clothes up onto her chair. "I'm set," she said with a nod.

The others finished shortly after. Toolshed snapped his goggles into place, the Human Kite pulled up his hood, the Mole grabbed his shovel. They were all ready.

"Sentinel and Iron Maiden, you're our eyes and ears. Get into traffic cam feed, keep us posted. See if you can't waylay the cops for awhile. Everyone ready?"

"Ready," they all chimed in unison. The team was suited up, and every single one of them was to the job.

"Okay let's move out," Mysterion said. They all sprinted up the stairs, out the back door and through the training field to the side trail that dumped them right in the middle of town. "Sentinel give me a wire check, you all set up over there?" Mysterion said over the wire. The entire team, even the Coon which surprised Wendy to no end, was sprinting at top speed down the winding trail as it passed by dozens of trees and eventually spilled out into the park that connected the forest with downtown South Park.

"Check Mysterion. Hacking into traffic feed now, ten seconds... I'm in. She's at the corner of 1st and Allen, headed south. So far no injuries, people are steering clear of her but that may not last long."

"Got it. Let's go!"

They set off at a dead run, barreling out of the park and into the downtown area. "Kite, go aerial. Toolshed to the roof. I'll take ground with StrikeForce on target's left. Mole and Coon you take ground on her right. Mosquito and Biotic you run interference," Mysterion ordered. As they rounded the corner of 1st street, Kite and Toolshed scaled the nearest building. Out of the corner of her eye, StrikeForce saw Kite sprint across the roof, jump, and release the kite which took him soaring into the air. Toolshed made use of his incredible physique to carry him from one rooftop to the next with ease.

Biotic and Mosquito sprinted ahead. Sirens were blaring in the distance, and they had to put a stop to the police before they screwed up another crime scene.

It was only a heartbeat before they came into view of their target. Henrietta Biggle was their age, though she was rarely spotted at school. She made a habit of avoiding anything "too conformist" as her goth ways would dictate. Like her three other goth companions, she was an avid believer in caffeine and that the impetuous, overly-optimistic attitudes of society made the world around them a bleak and unwelcoming place. She'd been a bit overweight as a child, but had grown to be voluptuous and mysterious as a teenager. Or she normally was. This was something different. Now something lurked around her, like a shadow falling over her, but there was no shadows around her, nor anything to cast one. The buxom goth girl was swaying to and fro, her movements like a marionette. It made StrikeForce shudder. The whole thing was god damn creepy.

"We have ground visual, what do you see up there Kite?" Mysterion asked over the wire.

"I see her, she's left two wounded. They don't look to be serious but they're gonna need medical attention." He paused, and then shouted, "She's going for another victim!"

"We're on it." Mysterion and StrikeForce surged forward. "Henrietta!" Mysterion barked. "Hold it right there!"

As they ran at her, she had been in the process of chasing down a man who'd been on his way to work. He took off at a sprint as fast as he could. The goth girl turned at the sound of Mysterion's harsh voice. Her black hair obscured some of her face, but her eyes were still discernible. They were inky black where they should have been brown. No iris, no white. Just depth-less, unending void. There was definitely something wrong.

With speed she shouldn't possess, Henrietta blazed towards them, swinging the knife. Mysterion ducked to the left and StrikeForce leaped, using the other girl's outstretched arm to vault over her. She landed neatly behind Henrietta, who kept sprinting forward towards the other two ground-side League members: The Mole and the Coon.

With uncanny speed the Mole whipped up the shovel he carried as his weapon and deflected the knife. It came back and the shovel came back up, using the wooden handle to block and then deflect the deadly weapon. She swung down again and the knife clanged horribly against the spade of the shovel. The Mole ducked back, leaned away from another swing, and brought the shovel to bear once more as the knife made another pass. It twanged harmlessly away again.

The Coon sprang then, brandishing the talons he used as his primary offense and defense. His claws had grown in size since childhood, and now made for suitable shielding if he defended correctly. He knocked the knife away with the backs of the talons and swiped down, the knife caught between his thumb and index claws. Henrietta flew back, as though drawn by a rope and then launched forward again, the weapon seeking blood once more. The Coon swiped the weapon aside again and again. She darted back, narrowly avoiding the upward slash that followed, twisted and went for StrikeForce and Mysterion once again. They were ready, and took turns deflecting her attacks.

"Civilians are clear," Biotic said over the wire. "Mosquito and I are coming to help."

"I've got the cops going in circles," Sentinel said proudly. "You've got a half hour, make the best of it."

"Good work Sentinel," Mysterion said and dropped to the ground to avoid a massive cleave by Henrietta, who missed by barely an inch.

Biotic and Mosquito arrived and jumped into the fray. And just in the nick of time. Henrietta twisted sideways in an attempt at slitting Mysterion's throat when Biotic shoved in front of him. The knife glanced off his armor harmlessly and she danced back away from him. The way her long black dress moved and swayed about her made her look like some kind of terrible black ghost.

Mosquito leaped forward next. His primary method of attack since they'd started seriously fighting crime (Wendy had later been told) were a pair of old wood police batons that had been unused and discarded as junk. They were deep red and he'd wrapped the handles in blue-stained leather. His movements when fighting were quick, jagged and easily reversed. Where StrikeForce relied on fluid movement, acrobatics and sometimes brute strength, Mosquito was a constant buzz of movement. His tactic was constantly shifting. Whenever the opponent would change, so would Mosquito, and it was quite effective in the field. He twisted left then right, knocking the knife harmlessly away. He swatted the backs of her knees with the batons and she staggered for a second.

"We're jumping in, the injured are cleared out," Toolshed confirmed over the wire.

"Pulling back around for a landing, I'll be there in five," Kite said.

Toolshed leaped down from the roof and whipped out one of his combat wrenches. He deflected three of her attacks and jumped back as StrikeForce flipped up over him and kicked Henrietta's knife-wielding hand up and away from harming him. The knife spiraled back again and StrikeForce ducked to allow Mysterion in. He knocked it away again and landed a hard blow to the forehead that dazed the goth girl. She staggered for a moment.

"V-voices..." she hissed. Her eyes flickered brown for a fraction of a second. The black overtook her eyes again and she renewed her attack.

StrikeForce watched Henrietta, almost transfixed. Her eyes had flickered. StrikeForce had seen Henrietta's eyes flicker. Whatever had overcome her, whatever was nesting in the goth girl's eyes, it wasn't permanent. It didn't even seem to have a good grip on her. They had to find a way to break it... they had to-

StrikeForce gaped at her for a half second too long. Henrietta dashed at her, brandishing the blade, and swiped at her. StrikeForce moved, ducking and deflecting the strike, but not before it bit into her forearm.

"Ow fuck!" StrikeForce hissed, then flipped back away from a second blow.

"You okay?" Mysterion asked through gritted teeth. He pulled back for a breath and Toolshed leaped in, or tagged in really, to give the pair some breathing room.

She observed the expression on Toolshed's face. He looked pissed... okay well that was a massive understatement. He looked absolutely _livid_, but didn't say anything. He'd pulled out a second wrench and was using the pair to deflect her attacks left then right, the speed and intensity of his motions and attacks increasing with each passing second.

"Yeah it's not deep. I think I've got an idea!" she shouted.

"Well I'd love to hear it," Mysterion called back. He plunged one hand into his cape and returned with a string of fire crackers. "Flare!" he shouted. They'd all gotten used to his method of distraction, ever since they were kids. Flares, fireworks, essentially pyrotechnic flashing lights that he'd toss into the fray to give them the edge of shock and surprise. It often worked. But hefting around and trying to use a lighter in the heat of battle was not only a pain in the ass, but had gotten him smacked around pretty good on many occasions, so he'd lined his gloves on the pads of his thumb and middle finger with a thin layer of flint and steel.

He snapped his fingers, the string lit and he tossed it. They went off popping and hissing and crackling with deafening certainty, flashing brightly. Henrietta was thrown off balance, exactly as they'd hoped, buying them a few precious seconds of reprieve to plan. Toolshed ducked back.

"When you hit her, she faltered! Her eyes flickered!" StrikeForce went on as soon as the cracking subsided. She dove forward to get a strike in but Henrietta recovered and flitted away before she could make contact.

"Well that's great but get to the point!" Mysterion shouted and dropped almost completely onto his back to avoid a heavy thrust from the knife.

"If we knock her out we might disrupt the brainwashing long enough for her to come out of it when she wakes up!"

"Okay guys," Mysterion said. "We're going for a K.O., but try not to scramble her brains-" Henrietta lunged at him, the knife thrusting towards his chest.

"Incoming!"

Kite flashed down from the sky, tackling her to the ground and leaping up from her again. "Nice save, Kite!" Mysterion called over to him, his voice sounding somewhat labored. Henrietta didn't stay down long though. She stood up without actually pushing herself up, just sort of hovering to her feet.

"God that's fucking creepy," Mosquito commented. She flew at him and he brought up his batons, knocking her knife hand left, then twisted back to shove her away. StrikeForce stared at the knife. It was broken... when had that happened? Biotic leaped in and knocked her hand up again just as she came back for a second pass, this time with force enough to jar the weapon loose from her hand and send it clattering to the ground.

It sat for a second and then melted into an inky black liquid then evaporated.

"Okay what the fuck," Biotic said. He looked up in time to see another knife appear in her hand. It wasn't like it had magically popped to life with flashing lights or any obvious announcements of any kind. It just sort of... melted into existence and was immediately in her hand.

"You guys saw that too right?" Mosquito asked uncertainly, then leaped back as she rushed him. He brought up his batons again, swatting her hand to the right. She swung down and Mysterion leaped in, gripping her wrist. She tried to twist back to grab the knife out of her trapped hand but the Coon grabbed her other wrist. StrikeForce leaped in then and with a swift jab to the base of her skull, knocked Henrietta out cold.

"Cops inbound, you should get her back to base so we can try and treat her," Sentinel said over the wire. "I'm having Iron Maiden set up a medical room in one of the empty rooms on the ground floor."

"Alright guys. Biotic, Mosquito take Henrietta and head back to base. Toolshed and Kite, you make sure anyone who was injured gets medical attention and the cops don't fuck them over for it. Coon and Mole, you go with Biotic and Mosquito, make sure she doesn't wake up before you get there. StrikeForce, go have your arm looked at then head back to base. I'll meet everyone once I check on something."

The group all set to work running their assigned tasks. StrikeForce glanced around them and made to start heading for the base. The wound was really not that bad, she didn't need stitches and if she did, she could administer them herself. She'd just fix herself up at base and call it good. Looking around, she noticed Mysterion had vanished from view. "The fuck?" she murmured to herself, and scanned the area around her. She caught sight of him after several long minutes of searching, and despite having looked several times for him, seemed to have a hard time seeing him properly. But she saw him non the less. Mysterion, who was stumbling into an alley. "I'm gonna check on him real quick, I'll meet up with you guys at base," she said to Toolshed and Kite, then jogged over to the alley.

She found him not far in, sitting against the wall. Blood was spreading across his chest and staining his shirt. As she drew closer, she found she was having more and more difficulty focusing. But the horror of all that blood kept her grounded. "What the fuck!?" she demanded as she appeared, then knelt down in front of him.

He glanced up at her and grimaced. "Damn it go get your arm looked at, I said I'll meet up with you guys at base."

"Well fat chance of that if you go and fucking die!" she snapped. "What happened, did she get you?"

"When Kite tackled her. A piece of the fucking knife snapped off in my chest." He coughed. "Dig it out."

"What?"

"I said dig it out. Take it back to base and examine it, might have some clues."

"But what about-"

"StrikeForce," he said sternly. "Just do it. I promise you I will go back to base, but it will take a few hours. Now get this thing out of my chest."

She chewed her lip. "Fine." Without another word she drew her small medical kit from its pouch strapped to her left thigh. She pulled out a small flashlight and a pair of tweezers then gingerly set to work extracting the chunk of knife out of Mysterion's chest.

It came slowly. The knife had been driven in about three inches and all three of those inches did not want to give up the place they'd claimed in his sternum. He winced but did not cry out at the pain.

Finally she jerked the piece of knife free from its pedestal of bone and skin and muscle. As soon as she did blood poured freely from the void. It dripped onto her wounded arm and stung.

"Ow! Oh shit, you don't have like... AIDS or anything do you?" she muttered. He tore off the end of his cape and handed it to her to wrap the piece of knife in, then chuckled weakly.

"No, don't worry. My blood is pretty clean. Now get the fuck moving," he murmured. His hand reached down for one of his pistols and he loaded a round into the chamber.

"Wait what're you doing?" she asked tentatively.

"I know this might leave some scarring. Sorry about this." He only smiled a bit wryly and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot sounded like an explosion. The bullet ripped through his temple and the force of it sent him straight to the ground, blood and brain matter splashing on the pavement.

StrikeForce stared at him, eyes round with shock. An inky shadow was floating around his cooling corpse. It dissipated in a flash of white light that overtook the alley and blinded her.

_-x-0-x-_

By the time noon rolled around, everyone had returned to base. Stan had fussed over her for several minutes before she could wave him off, similar to the way she'd done when he'd been shot. She shooed him away and spent the next three hours carefully working on the cut. Wendy finished mending her arm by wrapping it in gauze once she'd cleaned the gash. It still stung, but she wasn't quite sure why. She descended the stairs from the barracks to the ground floor and strode over to where Iron Maiden had set up the medical containment room for Henrietta. Stan, Kyle, and Clyde were standing near the door, talking amongst themselves.

"Hey guys," she greeted as she approached. "Has everyone turned back up yet?"

"Yeah, everyone but Mysterion. He'll probably turn up tonight."

Cartman descended from the barracks. "He's not back? Where'd he go?"

Wendy was curious too. For some reason, her memory of the events after the fight were hazy at best.

"He said he'd meet up with us later," she said slowly, then looked down at her hand. She was still clutching the wrapped piece of the knife. "I think... this is a broken piece from the first knife," she said, unwrapping it from the piece of Mysterion's cape. "The one that melted or something."

They all stared at it. It was covered in blood, and underneath the deep red stains there were black marks, like burns in the metal. They were patterned almost like words, but in no language Wendy had ever seen in her life.

"Did she get someone?" Stan asked, eying the blood.

"Might be from me," Wendy pondered aloud, raising her injured arm to show them. "She cut me pretty deep."

Though not deep enough to coat the entire tip in blood, but no one questioned it further. Cartman continued to stare at it, but didn't press it. Instead they all turned their attentions on the shrieking coming from within the new medical room. "Doesn't sound like she's coming out of it," Stan commented.

"Not in the slightest," Clyde said as he emerged, running a hand through his brown hair. "She has short periods of lucidity but beyond that it's all babbling and nonsense." He shrugged. "Maybe if we give her some time she'll come out of it enough to give us something useful."

Wendy chewed her lip. Something was nagging at the back of her brain. "Let me go in," she said, gingerly handing the piece of knife to Stan.

"You sure? You won't get much out of her."

"Yeah, I wanna try something."

Clyde exhaled heavily. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you. Oh and don't loosen the restraints, we don't want her getting loose and hurting herself or someone else."

She nodded and moved past the others, who started to make their way down to the meeting room. She closed the door behind her and turned to observe Henrietta. Her eyes were still completely hollow and black, where her irises and the whites of her eyes should have been. Her breathing was labored and she trembled. Her styled black hair hung low over her eyes and she seethed her breath.

"Henrietta?" Wendy asked cautiously, and then held down a yelp of complete alarm. The others hadn't noticed the shadow hanging around the goth girl. Before seeing her here, Wendy hadn't either. But now it was like ink in water, swirling and swaying around her. It expanded and shrank like it was steadily breathing. It was creepy, but Wendy swallowed whatever fear wanted to well up in her throat and took a few steps forward. "Henrietta can you hear me?" she said.

The goth girl raised her eyes to Wendy. "Of course," she breathed. Then she giggled, a hissing that was most unbecoming of one who never laughed if it could possibly be helped. It was so unnatural, the sound coming out of Henrietta's throat, that it made a shiver crawl up Wendy's spine. Seeing her like this... it was gut-wrenching.

The League had been going to the Goths for years for information on all things dark and disturbing, and lately that had been becoming more and more frequent. Stan had always been the liaison and in all the years he'd known them, not one of the goths had ever even _smiled_ let alone laughed. The hollow laughter that rang out of Henrietta's mouth echoed like breaking glass. "Of course I can!"

"You need to snap out of it," Wendy said cautiously. The inky black thing expanded again.

"Snap out of what?"

"Whatever is wrong with you. You have to let us fix it."

The thing contracted. "NO!" she shrieked. "NO! No one CAN FIX IT!"

Wendy raised her hands as if in surrender. "Now just calm down, let's talk, okay? Let's just talk."

Henrietta's shuddering breath quieted some. "Talk?" she sang. "Talk about what?"

"Well let's talk about you," Wendy said slowly. "What... what are you trying to accomplish?"

Henrietta didn't respond at first. The quiet was strange. Wendy watched as the black thing contracted again then expanded slowly as though filling with air. "They want me to spill the blood," Henrietta said at last. "It's so loud in here..."

"It's just you and me. You can talk to me. Tell me about the voices."

The terrifying giggle hissed its way out of Henrietta's throat again. "They're loud," she replied. "They speak to me, they tell me things I should know."

"What kinds of things?"

"_Immortalis_," she said. "The one who is both mortal and not."

Wendy blinked. "What do you mean?"

The voice that issued from Henrietta's mouth next was not her own. It was like a hundred angry whispers all vying to be the loudest, and all of them succeeding. "_The Immortalis, the thief. He will answer to the voices beneath. The blood of all of you shall flow freely as a river and the laws of death shall be broken. The Nightmare shall come and we shall take our place..._"

Henrietta screamed then and the blackness of her eyes flickered. "Get out... _please _get them out!" she cried. Wendy's hands instinctively flew to her ears again as another shriek rattled the room._  
_

"Henrietta calm down!" she tried to say but her voice was drowned out by the shrieks. The black thing expanded like ink in water and threatened to consume the entire room. God that thing... what the hell was it? There was no way it was natural. It couldn't be a mirage. Just its shape, the shadow it cast, the link it had to have with Henrietta... No. Wendy refused to believe it was a mirage. She inched her way closer, reaching out her hand, fingers stretching towards Henrietta's cuffed wrist. "Please calm down and let's talk, okay? We can just talk, but you have to trust me!"

"H-how? How do I t-trust you! The voices... they're _screaming_," she sobbed. Tears leaked down her cheeks, carrying with them streaks of her black eyeliner that painted her otherwise pale face with dark lines. "They're screaming and they're telling me to kill! I must..." she trailed off. She sucked down another ragged breath, calmed now by the presence of Wendy's soothing hand on her bound wrist. From all appearances, the goth girl was fighting, with every piece of her, to come back from the darkness. The brink of oblivion upon which she tread was not so willing to let her go, and the inky black threatened to consume her again.

"Just close your eyes and talk. Everything that comes to mind," Wendy coaxed her. "Just talk until there's nothing left to say, and I'll listen. I'll do whatever I can to make the voices stop."

That was, in itself, something that tingled in the bottom of her brain. Something Mysterion and the Human Kite had only briefly touched on in their last meeting. The voices. They had both spoken the words aloud, but neither one of them had really expanded on what the words truly meant. The Voices Beneath. It sounded foreign and familiar all at once, like something from a book she would have read as a child, and yet like a phrase out of a completely alien language. It was truthfully neither but it perplexed her just the same. What she wondered most of all though was were these voices, the Voices Beneath, an entity? Or a representation? Or perhaps both? It was impossible to tell, but as she looked at Henrietta, who was once so prim, so anti-establishment, so confident and mysterious, she now saw a desperate young woman on the brink of the oblivion of madness and frantically clinging to what little thread of sanity she could hold to.

Henrietta swallowed another breath. "The voices..." she began. Another steadying inhale pushed her forward. "The voices ask death. They seek bloodshed arranged in the shape of the lock. The blood is key, the blood is everything. They seek retribution, they seek vengeance. They seek to become free of the deep endless prison they seek to wake their priest to wake the dark ones to wake the deep ones..."

Her rambling began to run together and Wendy squeezed her hand gently to bring her back down again. "It's okay, take a deep breath."

Henrietta did as suggested and breathed deeply. She sniffled. "They... they want to rectify what was stolen."

"Okay, now can you tell me who they are?"

"The Voices Beneath."

"Can you tell me about them?" Henrietta shook her head, leaned back on the gurney and closed her eyes. She was exhausted for the day. Wendy patted her arm. "I'll come in and check on you later, try and rest. See if you can't block out the voices." With that she released Henrietta's wrist, strode through the door, and closed it softly behind her.

Wendy sighed heavily. She really, _really_ didn't like leaving Henrietta in that room alone with the inky black thing. But what the hell could she do? It probably wasn't tangible, if it wasn't simply a hallucination brought on by the trauma of the day. But no, that probably wasn't it. She was fairly confident she could tell the difference between a hallucination and strange reality. And in South Park, strange reality was often the winner. The thing couldn't be an illusion, it was too strange and bore too much coincidence to be a hallucination. She wasn't seeing it everywhere she went, just near Henrietta. It _had_ to be real. With firmed resolve she joined the other League members down in the meeting room.

As she descended the stairs she heard their voices. They were hypothesizing about something. As she pushed through the door, she realized they were talking about exactly what she wanted to discuss.

"Dude she was saying it out in the street, and in the room, and _you_ said it. It is obviously important," Clyde said.

"Well no shit dude," Cartman retorted.

"Well go over it again then. Everything you remember," Stan urged. Wendy made her way to the table and sat down in her chair beside him.

"Ech, fine." Cartman withdrew the notepad he carried around with him now. He'd taken his one assignment wholly to heart and written down any sudden memories he could drum up about his time being a bit psychotic. And really, Wendy wasn't sure entirely why Cartman, nor his alter ego, had suddenly proved so willing to go and follow the orders of Mysterion, someone who a week ago he seemed to hate. One of the many mysteries of Cartman, she supposed. He cleared his throat. "So it started early in the morning, caught Butters and the other kid talking to a guy they called Mr. Havoc. Havoc's voice was... ugh. It was bad. Then those whispers... voices I guess, started talking to me. But it was quiet at first and they got louder and louder." He paused and furrowed his brow.

"Then like... I dunno, they started talking and it sorta made sense." He paused and chewed on his words again. "Not like stuff that would make sense if someone were to say it right now. I mean like stuff that if you hear it explained over and over, and someone's screaming about it... after awhile it makes a scary kind of sense. It was like... it was really creepy.

"They would say stuff like that the only way to survive was to follow the voices, but they'd start like... screaming so loud and stuff that I couldn't sleep or eat, and like you get real worn down after awhile that you kinda want to just do anything it says to make the screaming stop."

Cartman paused again to stare at his notes. "After awhile the hallucinations started. They can be the same person as someone standing beside you but it's still impossible to tell the difference because of all the crazy shit going on in your head. And they start being more and more coherent the more fucking crazy you start getting, and they tell you to do stuff, like kill people for stuff the hallucinations are doing. I think the last thing I remember was being uh... being on the roof with Mysterion."

They listened intently as he went into detail about how the whispers had become screams, and asked him to commit all sorts of atrocities. He only vaguely remembered most of it, but he had started to recall some of the things that had happened during his periods of memory loss.

The entire situation made Wendy's stomach turn. Just hearing about the sheer scope of absolute _insanity_ that had overtaken Cartman, one of the most stubborn and psychologically powerful people around (despite his sociopathic tendencies) just by overhearing the sound of a stranger's voice... terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. And really, that was only the first bit that made her heart rattle in her chest. They were onto something huge, something much bigger than all of them. Something that would test them and could possibly see them dead before the end. And even as she thought about it, Wendy knew they wouldn't be much better off as civilians. Worse maybe. She hated to think about what happened in the minds of those poor brainwashed people. Heidi, one of her closest friends since elementary school, who had always been so bright and sweet and cheerful, had very publicly stabbed herself in the chest. And now Henrietta...

The thought of that thing in the room with her resurfaced in Wendy's mind.

She chewed her lip. "Do you ever remember seeing anything like a... like a shadow that's not cast on a wall?"

The entire table turned to look at her. "Whut?" Cartman arched an eyebrow.

She pondered how best to phrase it. "Okay like, do you ever remember seeing something that's kinda like an inky black fog?"

Stan reached for her hand. "Are you okay...?" he asked softly.

She waved him off. "I'm fine, but did you Eri- I mean... Coon?"

He shrugged. "Iunno, I don't remember seeing one but I had those blackouts so maybe."

"Why?" Clyde put forward the question everyone wanted to ask but didn't feel right doing so.

Wendy chewed her lip again. "I'm not sure," she settled at last. Her internal debate had not been settled. If she did tell them about the black cloud, would they just think it's exhaustion? That the stress of the job had made her hallucinate? Or would they give some credence to her memory and believe her? They were all understanding, especially when it came to things they couldn't see or didn't particularly understand. South Park was full of things deemed completely psychotic by outsiders, but even this was a bit of a stretch. A black cloud no one else could see?

Well, needless to say if she didn't tell them, she withheld information that could cause them danger, so she would have to chance the accusations of insanity.

"I saw something when I was in the room with Henrietta. I didn't see it on the battle field so I don't know if maybe something changed between her being knocked out and coming here, or if it's just something I couldn't see before for whatever reason." She paused and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "There's like a black... shadow-looking thing hanging around Henrietta. It moves and changes shape sorta like ink in water but... I dunno... you guys think I've lost it don't you?" she asked upon viewing their incredulous stares.

Stan and Kyle exchanged glances of worry. "Look I'm not crazy, I know the difference between something that's real and hallucination."

"Okay we're not saying you're crazy," Kyle began gently. "It's just-"

"A little bit... well you know how shit gets around here," Clyde finished for him. "It's not like sanity abounds."

Wendy's shoulders sank a little. Stan caught her eye and she pleaded with him. _I promise I'm not crazy_ her eyes said. _You have to believe me_.

His blue eyes searched her gray ones without pause and he said at last, "Okay let's just give her the benefit of the doubt. Let's go look and see if anyone else can see it. And even if they can't, maybe there's a reason Wendy can."

The group mumbled their agreements and vacated their chairs to march back up the steps. The considerable lack of shrieking coming from Henrietta's room was an improvement, and hopefully a good sign. They crossed the ground floor and approached the door of Henrietta's room silently.

"I think she's resting," Wendy said softly, and peered through the window of the door. She saw the black thing hovering around her like a jellyfish in the air. Henrietta was still laying there on her back, strapped to the gurney, looking disdainful and exhausted, but otherwise emotionless as ever. She seemed to be coming back to herself, if slowly.

Wendy stepped back to allow the others to look. One by one they peered through, but shook their heads as one after the other they failed to see the hovering blotch of black. She chewed her lip, and Stan took her hand to comfort her. Was she losing it? Could the fight have really knocked something loose in her head and she was doomed to suffer hallucinations?

"I see it," someone said at last. The very last person she would expect, or want, to believe what she said.

"You see it, Coon? You're not just being an asshole and lying so you can call me insane later?"

His face was devoid of jest or sarcasm. "Seriously. It's like this black spot hovering around her. Iunno, I can see it, dunno why you assholes can't."

Clyde was at a loss for words, just as the rest of them. He opened and closed his mouth several times before his voice grudgingly returned to him. "So... so it _is_ there? Something most of us can't see?"

Wendy knew why he was in such discomfort. The implications that something they couldn't see was attacking people... well that was scary. Terrifying, really, that something awful and invisible might be responsible for the horrible psychotic episodes their classmates had gone through. Wendy felt her stomach turn. She could see it, and that was only a small comfort. The fact that she could though... was something wrong with her? She hadn't seen it before, what would have changed? She swallowed hard. Stan squeezed her hand again.

"So let's uh... let's head downstairs," Kyle said, his face a little pale. "I guess that's just one more thing we need to investigate." He was trying to sound positive. It was proving difficult.

Wendy glanced at her watch. It was getting late in the evening, and Mysterion still hadn't returned. The thought of him brought up the memory of the piece of bloody knife that she'd brought back wrapped in a torn bit of Mysterion's cape. Well, whatever he was doing, they all had to be confident that he would return soon and share whatever it was he learned from whatever it was he was doing. Mysterion was well-known for random, sudden absences. The first time he'd gone AWOL after Wendy had been inducted to the League, she'd been alarmed. The others had assured her that this was just something that Mysterion did. From time to time he'd vanish for a few hours, sometimes one or two days at the most, and usually come back with something useful for them. It was his method and process and no one dared interfere.

The group each returned to their chairs. "Okay," Stan said after several long minutes of silence. "Let's take a look at what we have right now, everything we need to look into. I'll start with the black thing that's invisible to most people."

"The book," Kyle put forth. "That thing, whatever it is, might be in there, and a whole bunch of other shit related to whatever the fuck is going on."

"Havoc," Clyde spoke up. "Whoever the fuck he is, how he's involved and how he can drive someone insane by talking."

"How he can drive someone insane who's eavesdropping but not completely fuck up the people he's talking to," Cartman added somewhat bitterly.

"The purpose of the murder-suicides," Token said. "Why those targets, how are they being brainwashed."

"The knife," Wendy said, her gray eyes fixing on the piece on the table. "What is it and how come the rest of it evaporated when it touched the ground."

"Now THAT was fucked up," Kyle said. "There is definitely something big going on here and it fucking sucks that we can't seem to get even a glimpse of the bigger picture."

Well that was for damn sure. Wendy exhaled heavily to calm her nerves.

"Who ze fuck are zee Travelers of Nightmare," Christophe said slowly, thoughtfully.

Sounds from the floor above them drew their attention. Wendy glanced over at where Ike and Timmy were positioned. Ike seemed to be intently focused on his police scanner, headphones on, and not paying the slightest heed to the others in the room. Timmy was distracted by whatever was on the monitor of his station, and neither one seemed to draw any interest in the sudden reappearance of their leader through the meeting room door.

"Hey guys," he greeted them in his unaltered voice. He strode to take his chair, pulling off the hood and mask as he walked. Wendy observed that he looked a little tired, from whatever it was he'd done.

"Dude are you alright? Where've you been?" Stan asked him, his face filled with concern.

Kenny waved him off. "I'm fine, I'll explain in a minute. So fill me in, what's up with Henrietta?"

"She's not looking so good," Wendy answered. "She's still in heavy psychosis, hearing voices and I think she's been hallucinating. Right now she's upstairs and she's quieter since I talked her down. Earlier she was doing quite a bit of screaming." Wendy paused and inhaled. "But um... there's something else."

Kenny's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

"Most of these guys can't see it but the Coon and I can," she started slowly. "There's something in there with her... like this black thing hovering around her. It's kinda like a really dark shadow type of thing that's not cast on the ground or the wall..." she trailed off.

Kenny's expression of mild interest quickly evolved into alarm. "It's in there now?" he asked.

She nodded. Kenny didn't ask for any further explanation. He believed her, without hesitation or persuasion. He didn't ask for any long-winded explanation, didn't demand that they show him what it was. He believed her without the slightest implications on her sanity. The knot that had been sitting heavily in her stomach since leaving Henrietta's room eased slightly.

He rubbed his face. "Okay that's... fuck." He sighed heavily. "So, I suppose we should do recap then and set up assignments. Next meeting scheduled for-"

"Hang on," Ike cut in. He'd been silent all night, listening to whatever was so interesting over the police scanner. "Shit, you are not going to believe this," he said angrily. His voice was sharp.

"What's up, Sentinel?"

"They were keeping it off the scanners and talking in code, I can't believe those mother fuckers-"

"Sentinel. What is it?"

"The cops. They... fuck, they covered up another code black."

"_What_!?" Kenny stood from the chair. His blue eyes were blazing and he face was absolutely livid.

"There was a code black at the KFC, the cops have been talking about it all night and I just cracked the code they've been using to talk about it. It sounds like it went down about a half hour ago, the cops are cordoning off the area right now to do cleanup."

"FUCK that," Kenny barked. He put the mask back on. "Gear up, we're gonna go down there and find out just what the FUCK is wrong with Yates."

* * *

_Author's Notes: So here we start getting into the thick of things. Updates are going to come a little slower-paced, and I think I'll start doing my update days on Thursdays or Fridays. I'm still not entirely decided on it but I'll make sure to update the story description if I do pick a day. In any case, I will continue to update as regularly and steadily as possible._

_This chapter was a bit difficult to write. Not because of the content or the length which is about the same as most other chapters (Actually it's a little bit shorter). Trying to keep all the information as limited as possible to make it more engaging was a bit tough. There are a lot of things, big and little here, that will come into more light as we go. _

_I would, as always, like to thank everyone for such amazing, wonderful positive feedback on Arc 1 and Arc 2. You guys are seriously awesome, I cannot even express. I love getting reviews and notes so feel free to ask me questions or send me feedback. I'll see everyone next week, thanks for sticking with me so far._


	9. Torrid

**South Park - The Voices Beneath  
**

* * *

**Disclaimer: South Park and all related characters and ideas are (c) Matt Stone and Trey Parker; other copyrighted characters and ideas are property of their respective license holders. Any original content, plot ideas, etc. are of my own work and not being used for profit. **

**The following story will contain strong language, adult themes, extreme violence and copious amounts of unadulterated insanity.**

**Enter at your own risk.**

* * *

******Arc 2 - ****MENDACIUM ET VERITAS**

* * *

I cannot express how fucking much I hate coming back in a hospital. Well actually let me rephrase that. I absolutely fucking hate being in a hospital, period. The smell of sick people and the lingering shadow of death always makes me beyond uncomfortable. That and the amount of time I've spent inside hospitals... ugh. Fuck it, I hate going there.

But coming back to life in a hospital is ten times as bad. Not just being disoriented, but everything else that goes along with it. The creepy atmosphere, the darkness of the room, the quiet that follows me down the halls... fuck, and the fact that every god damn time I try to talk to someone, they forget I'm even there. It's weird and seriously fucking annoying.

Well I guess that's not always true. After about five minutes of being alive again, people start to notice me. But it's never doctors or nurses, just the patients. Sometimes visitors. But a nurse or a doctor will _never_ pay me any attention. They'll walk by me and not even look twice at me. Fuck they'll run into me, stare straight at me, and completely forget all about it the next second.

The first time though... that was the worst. To be totally and completely honest, those were the worst three weeks of my entire life. The whole thing started as a normal day. Well, more or less normal. It was during the last year of the EAL before we decided on renaming ourselves to simply "The League of Heroes", and it was the month after inducting StrikeForce into the League. Things were going pretty well, and I was really happy for all my friends. Stan and Wendy were closer than ever, Kyle finally had a girlfriend in Sally Turner, and Cartman... well, I didn't give a fuck at the time. I still really don't but whatever. Everyone was pretty happy, and I guess I let my guard down.

Then_ that_ fucker turned up again. He kept dropping hints about what he was planning but I seriously wish I would have paid more attention. Anyway, the day came. It was right in the full swing of my Freshman year of high school and my mom was working full time as a waitress, while my dad had finally gotten a job in construction. Not exactly raking in the dough but we scraped by pretty well. Anyway, so my mom was telling me that morning that she wanted me to bring Karen by the Olive Garden once we got out of school so she could see us. At the time I didn't think anything of it, but I look back now and I guess it was sort of strange.

But the entire week before that, during patrols, some asshole had kept harassing some of the other heroes. Myself, Human Kite, and Toolshed specifically. He would say shit like "I'm going to burn your worlds to the ground" and he would always fuck off before we could figure out what he was talking about. We thought it was just another crazy who got out of the asylum, which truthfully has happened before. His voice was familiar, but none of us could have guessed what he was going to do.

So that day once school got out, I picked up Karen from the middle school and took her to the Olive Garden where my mom was working. We knew the kitchen staff pretty well by then so we waited back in the kitchens while my mom finished her shift.

Then he showed up. That hooded fucker who kept taunting us showed up in the middle of the restaurant, in broad daylight, and started shooting people. He called me out, by name. Not my hero name, my _given_ name. "Kenneth James McCormick." He called it out right in the restaurant, and people were running and screaming. There was so much blood.

I'm used to blood. Don't get me wrong, I don't enjoy the sight, but it doesn't phase me anymore. It just... it's just there, you know? Anyway, I kicked into hero mode once the gun went off. I started evacuating people, making sure they were unharmed, stuff like that. Most people were out of the building by the time I went out to confront him.

I never saw the bastard's face, his hood was too deep. But he saw me. He pulled the gun on me, told me he was going to fix a huge mistake and that I should be grateful to have lived so long. I didn't give the prick the satisfaction of fear, and really, I didn't have any reason to be scared. He could shoot me all he wanted, it wouldn't do him any fucking good. I'd just come back, hunt him down and beat his face in before turning his psychotic ass over to the cops.

That was the plan. But the plan didn't really go off like I wanted it to, because Karen came running back in. My mom was behind her.

There were gunshots. And the fire. The rest of it... it was painful. All of it, it was god damn fucking painful, and every time I think about it... well, I don't cry. I used to, but I don't now. I don't cry when I'm in pain, I don't cry when I'm dying. But when I think of that night, it's the closest I will ever come to shedding tears. Real tears.

I spent two weeks in Heaven after that. I died in sacrifice of another, several others actually, and it earned me one of many tickets to the golden gates. No one could explain to me what was going on. No one _ever_ seems to be able to tell me fucking anything about it. I swear, it doesn't matter where I go, either people are hiding shit from me or they can't remember a damn thing.

I came around in the hospital exactly two weeks after the fire. I was wearing the same orange hoodie and jeans, but my injuries were gone. That was the most terrified, confused and angry I've ever been when coming back around after dying. I was confused and terrified, I tried to ask someone how I'd gotten there but the doctors and nurses just looked straight through me. They walked right past me. I screamed, I kicked walls, but no one noticed a fucking thing. It was the first time waking up somewhere besides my own bed, and the first time going home and finding my grieving family.

My father wasn't just surprised to see me. He was completely dumbstruck when I walked in the door. He asked me if I was okay, where I'd been. I couldn't tell him I'd been fucking around in Heaven for two weeks, so I told him I'd been in the hospital and asked if he knew why. He dodged my questions after that. He still won't answer me about anything, especially when I ask about my mom. Because it was only after then that I realized how little I knew about my mother. How little I still know about who she was, who both of my parents were before my birth. And how stupid I was to overlook all the hints my mother dropped about knowing about what happened to me every time I died.

* * *

**Torrid  
**

* * *

Kenny's eyes snapped open. He was greeted by a silent, eerie darkness that cloaked the room. It took a few seconds for him to remember where he was, but it hit him that he knew. He'd shot himself in the head and the bullet had probably destroyed his brain, so it was natural (the word being used lightly of course) that he'd wake up in the hospital. He sat up slowly, and once he was upright, began his usual cursory examination to see that everything was as it should be. His uniform was no longer bloody so that was a plus. The place where he'd been stabbed no longer bore marks and his uniform had no rips or tears. Satisfied he pushed himself up off the hospital bed, ensured that his cape and mask were secure over his face and head, and stepped out into the dark hallway.

Hell's Pass Hospital was one of the places he woke up most frequently. And the name of it was fitting. Often when he'd come to inside the hospital, it was during one of his passes through Hell. The irony of it was certainly not lost on him, that the hospital itself seemed to be the pass he took to leave the pits of Hell and come back to life. But damn it if he hadn't wound up in that fucked up shadow world again. What the hell was that place? All mist and shadow and silence, who the fuck even went there besides him? And the black thing that stalked him through the fog, that was unsettling too. Fuck if it wasn't all so damn frustrating.

He stepped out into the dim hallway and closed the door silently behind him. A nurse walked by and paid him absolutely no attention. Sometimes he had overwhelming urges to play pranks on the people who either could not or refused to see him, but right now he was still Mysterion.

He came around the corner and someone bumped into him. "Oh goodness I'm so sorry... oh my gosh Mysterion!"

"Yes, sorry. Hello, Jessica," he said in Mysterion's growl. What the hell was she doing here?

That question didn't go unanswered as she awkwardly smoothed out the knee-length black skirt she wore, and he couldn't stop himself from thinking about, if only for a second, her long legs beneath that skirt (he mentally kicked himself for such thoughts on the job). "I umm... I'm here for my friend Kal. She's the other one you saved at the mall last month," she explained. She looked nervous, and he didn't blame her. Running into a superhero in the middle of a hospital after dark, especially one so shrouded in mystery as Mysterion, was probably somewhat off-putting. She seemed to be stammering a little, but she recovered herself. "Thank you, by the way. I never got to properly thank you for saving me and Kal that day but... well I wouldn't be alive if you hadn't. So thank you."

"No need to thank me," he said. "It's my job to protect the people of South Park."

"Well thank you anyway," she insisted. Her face was a little sad, and she peered through the window of Kal's room. He looked over her shoulder into the room. It was dim, in a way it shouldn't be, and he had difficulty seeing the patient laying within it. There was something strange about that darkness.

"Is it still the wounds from the incident at the mall?" Mysterion asked her slowly.

Jessie shook her head. "No, she's recovered but... well the doctors say she's really sick. She has a really high fever and she hallucinates a lot. I'm really scared for her. I think she's in one of her lucid periods right now."

He thought for a moment. "Would it be alright if I asked her a couple of questions? Both of you, actually. Nothing too strenuous, I just need a little information to break a case the League is working on."

"I... I guess so," Jessie replied nervously, then gently pushed open the door of Kal's room. It was dimly lit and Kal was laying silently in the hospital bed, facing the ceiling with her eyes half-closed. Her curly brown hair was a tangled mess and her normally warm face was almost white as bone. She definitely looked ill. "Hey Kal," Jessie said softly as she entered through the doorway. "Are you up for a visitor?"

Kal's eyes opened and she blinked. "Yeah... hi Jessie," she said with a weak smile. "You brought someone?"

"Yeah, one of the league members, he wanted to ask us some questions. Are you up for that?"

Kal's weak smile brightened. "You brought a superhero to see me?" Her eyes fell on Mysterion, and the smile vanished for a heartbeat. It returned with renewed vigor. "Oh holy hell, you brought Mysterion!"

He nodded to her. "Kalaphie I have a few questions for you about what you can remember of the day of the mall incident. Think you can help me out?"

She coughed, but nodded. "Yeah... yeah I'll try. Not sure how long I have before... well before I black out again but yeah. I'll do my best."

"Thank you," he said, gratefulness thick in his voice. "We've seen the footage and talked to a few witnesses about what happened with Heidi just before and during the incident, but you two were the closest ones to her when it happened. Do you remember anyone strange talking to her, or seeing anything strange on a video monitor while you were at the mall?"

Jessie chewed her lip and Kal furrowed her brow, both deep in thought. "Well," Kal started, "I do remember her staring at one of the screens over the food court. When we couldn't get her to respond to us." There was a heavy sadness in her voice.

"I think it was playing a music video of some kind... some song I've never heard. I don't really remember it but I do remember thinking that it sounded strange... like a really creepy lullaby or something."

Kal nodded in agreement. "Yeah I think so too."

"What about after that?" he asked.

"Well then she started pacing and... talking. Muttering something. I... don't remember most of it," Jessie said thoughtfully.

Kal closed her eyes. "___The world will be awash in Nightmare and the Priest shall awaken to guide the old ones to their rightful throne upon the bones of_ _humanity_," she recited. "I remember a lot of it... and the uh... the hallucinations I've been getting being sick, they recite it too."

Mysterion narrowed his eyes slightly at the mention of the hallucinations and their reciting, but he settled to ask about it later. It wouldn't do for him to get sidetracked, and Kal seemed strong enough to endure for at least a few more minutes. "What about before that? Did either of you talk to her before you saw her at Token Black's house?"

Kal nodded. "Yeah she called Jessie's cell on the way there, but since she was driving I picked it up."

"What happened in that phone call? Anything out of the ordinary?"

She nodded. "I picked it up and she asked if we were gonna be there soon cuz we had just left school, and I told her that we'd be a few minutes because Jessie wanted to swing by her house first and grab her wallet. Then Heidi tried to ask me something and then she screamed. She said she almost hit some guy. Then she talked to him a little bit and apologized and he started talking but the call got really staticky so I don't know who it was."

Mysterion mulled the information over for a moment. A stranger had spoken to Heidi after she'd nearly run him over. And, coincidentally, the call had gone to static while he'd spoken. That definitely made him suspicious.

"Kalaphie, can you tell me about your hallucinations?" he asked slowly.

She swallowed hard. "Yeah... okay." She thought for a moment. "Umm well they're sort of like... ghosts. They only come out every so often and they're not very loud. Like whispers I guess. They recite some nonsense and I black out for a little while, then come back around. The doctors say it's a product of the high fevers." She exhaled heavily and lay back, closing her eyes. "Usually I can block them out, but sometimes they get really strong and it's hard to make sense of what they're saying. I usually ask the nurses to dose me up when that happens so I don't do anything violent. I know I probably won't but I just want to be careful, you know? I don't want to be like... I don't want to repeat what happened to Heidi."

Mysterion stared at her with a new appreciation. The darkness that hovered around her, it was almost identical to the one that lurked behind Cartman. He was having trouble seeing it now though, and suspected that the longer he was alive, the harder it would be for him to see it.

"There's something else," she said, breaking through his thoughts. "Something... well I don't know if it's going to be of any use but I think you might want to know anyway. Just in case."

"What's that?"

"Well it's like... I get these waking dreams. They're different from the hallucinations because when I'm hallucinating, they talk _to_ me. During the waking dreams, they don't seem to notice I'm here and they talk amongst themselves. I uh... I had one today. I thought maybe if it meant anything, you would be the one I should tell."

Mysterion's eyebrows shot up. That was certainly very interesting, something that had never happened to Cartman during his period of possession. He started to wonder if it was truly possession at all, if it was perhaps something else entirely. A haunting maybe? He'd have more time to speculate later. "What was it?"

She closed her eyes again. "I saw a building, it was surrounded by men, and there was one person inside. There was... a knife, and thirteen people around him that fell down in a perfect circle. He fell down next and the room they stood in was painted in blood." Kal inhaled and exhaled heavily. "This must sound really strange, sorry..."

"Don't be," he said. "If it turns out to be any help, you'll have helped a lot of people." He paused, and then turned to Jessie. "Do either of you have a pen and a sheet of paper?"

With curiosity in her eyes, Jessie fished into her purse and produced a pen and a tiny notebook. He took it, tore out a page and scratched a number into it twice. He then ripped the sheet of paper in half and handed one to each girl. "This is the number to reach me personally. It's an emergency number, so only call if it's urgent. Specifically, if you remember anything else about what happened with Heidi. And Kal, if you have anymore of those visions, you let me know."

"You think I might be seeing something useful?"

"I don't know yet, but I'm not ruling it out."

Jessie held the paper gingerly in her fingers, staring at it with fascination. "Thank you," she said softly. "And thank you.. for everything else."

He nodded and got to his feet. "You've both been very helpful. I'll check in on the pair of you from time to time, and don't lose that number."

Jessie opened her mouth to speak, but as soon as she turned her head, he had vanished back out the door and melted into the shadows.

_-x-0-x-_

The trek back to the base was silent as a grave. It was a calm, clear night, and the sky was lit up by a brilliant full moon. He stared up at it, marveling at the strange peace it gave him.

There was no one out, and he had to guess it was probably sometime past midnight, judging from the traffic and the closed shops. He glanced down at his TAC pad, and was surprised to see that it was only half past ten. It was way too quiet to be so early. Despite his suspicions he trudged onward, finally coming to the base. He tapped in the code, slipped through the door, and made his way down the stairs.

Even before pushing through the meeting room door, he could hear voices. They were already in discussion about the day's events, so he'd have to ask for a recap. He moved through the door.

"Hey guys," he greeted them in his unaltered voice. He strode to take his chair, pulling off the hood and mask as he walked. The others stared at him as he went, and he noted the worry on their faces.

"Dude are you alright? Where've you been?" Stan asked him, his face filled with concern.

Kenny waved him off. "I'm fine, I'll explain in a minute. So fill me in, what's up with Henrietta?"

"She's not looking so good," Wendy answered. "She's still in heavy psychosis, hearing voices and I think she's been hallucinating. Right now she's upstairs and she's quieter since I talked her down. Earlier she was doing quite a bit of screaming." Wendy paused and inhaled. "But um... there's something else."

Kenny's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

"Most of these guys can't see it but the Coon and I can," she started slowly. "There's something in there with her... like this black thing hovering around her. It's kinda like a really dark shadow type of thing that's not cast on the ground or the wall..." she trailed off.

Kenny's mild interest dissolved, leaving only alarm. "It's in there now?" he asked. Inky shadow... that was something that really bothered him. Something that he'd seen only hours ago, stalking him through the shrouded mists of the nowhere place. Something he'd seen minutes ago as well, hovering around Kalaphie Johnson's head before it had faded from view.

She nodded. Kenny didn't ask for any further explanation. He believed her, no questions asked. Having witnessed the very thing she mentioned himself, only minutes ago, hovering around Kal's head, and then before that stalking him twice in a place he was unfamiliar with... Well, Kenny didn't believe in coincidence.

He rubbed his face. "Okay that's... fuck." He sighed heavily. "So, I suppose we should do recap then and set up assignments. Next meeting scheduled for-"

"Hang on," Ike cut in. He'd been silent all night, listening to whatever was so interesting over the police scanner. "Shit, you are not going to believe this," he said angrily. His voice was sharp.

"What's up, Sentinel?" Kenny asked, somewhat concerned.

"They were keeping it off the scanners and talking in code, I can't believe those mother fuckers-"

"Sentinel. What is it?"

"The cops. They... fuck, they covered up another code black."

"_What_!?" Kenny stood from the chair. Rage entered his voice, and his hands clenched into fists. How fucking _dare_ they!?

"There was a code black at the KFC, the cops have been talking about it all night and I just cracked the code they've been using to talk about it. It sounds like it went down about a half hour ago, the cops are cordoning off the area right now to do cleanup."

"FUCK that," Kenny barked. He put the mask back on. "Gear up, we're gonna go down there and find out just what the FUCK is wrong with Yates."

There was no question when he gave the order. Not one of them had reservations about suiting up and heading out to figure out what the fuck was going on, especially after the fight they'd had that day. This was bullshit and it stunk to the top. Whatever the fuck the cops, Yates especially, were up to they were going to find out.

The others sprinted up the stairs, while Kenny waited beside the back door. He'd already secured his mask over his eyes and drawn his hood back up before even leaving the meeting room, so he was left to pace and stew in his anger. He didn't have to wait long though. As years of training could only provide, they had all changed in under five minutes and descended the stairs as quickly as they'd gone up.

"Let's go," Toolshed said once they'd all reassembled. He sounded just as angry as Mysterion felt.

They slipped out the door and sprinted back into town, following that very same trail they'd trotted along only hours ago. This time though they were moving with rage and determination. Mysterion especially. He knew he'd have to be careful. If he let his anger get the better of him, he might end up in jail for assaulting an officer.

Wordlessly they made their way through empty city streets. Kite had taken to the air the moment they set foot on Main street, and Toolshed had gone up after him to follow along the rooftops. The Mole and the Coon moved together on the left side of the street. Biotic and Mosquito occupied the right, while Mysterion stormed up the center of the street, StrikeForce close behind him. They came into view of the building, and it was all he could do not to fly into a rage right off the bat.

There were no flashing lights. No sirens. No police tape. Not even an ambulance. Instead there were a half-dozen cop cars, two unmarked patrol cars, and two transport vans. About twenty men walked in and out of the building, carrying with them various cleaning supplies, and some hauling out long black bags, no doubt carrying bodies.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Mysterion demanded as he drew near enough for Yates to hear him. The copper-headed police chief turned, his face a little bit alarmed.

"M-Mysterion!"

"Answer me, you bastard!" he spat. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"That's none of your business," Yates snapped defensively. "We have this under control, if you hadn't noticed."

"No, what I noticed is that there's a bunch of strangers carting out corpses from a fast food restaurant and you neglected to do anything to stop it from happening in the first fucking place!"

Yates' face turned red. "I am a detective, Mysterion! You're just a punk kid in a cape-"

"Oh you're a detective? How about you detect me some fucking answers, _detective_. What the fuck happened here?"

The red deepened to purple, and he seemed about to bellow his reply when he stopped. His eyes glassed over and he turned.

"Don't turn your fucking back on me!" Mysterion snarled.

Yates paused and turned slightly. "You kids do great taking care of small-time problems like drug rings, but I think you're out of your _league_ on this," he repeated the statement from a month before. Mysterion felt his face go hot with rage.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?" he roared. He moved to sprint after the sergeant but firm hands gripped his arms and held him fast. "I'm gonna kill him!" he snarled.

"Calm down, Mysterion!" StrikeForce said from behind him. She had a grip on his left arm; the Mole, he could tell from the smell of cigars, was on his right. "You have to calm down before he has a _reason_ to arrest us. Let's learn what we can and go."

There was Wendy, the voice of reason. Despite how badly he wanted to pulverize Yates' face until his sense came back to him, there wasn't any other choice. He stopped struggling against his teammates and said, a little resigned, "Okay, let's find out what we can. I want to know how many victims, who the attacker was, and if there are any witnesses Yates hasn't tainted yet."

"Making a pass overhead," Kite's voice said over the wire. "I'm counting ten men carrying five bodies. Can't see how many are inside."

"I'm breaking in through the vent on the top floor," Toolshed said next. A few minutes of drilling and tampering passed and then finally, "I'm inside. Surveying the dama- oh holy fuck."

"What's up Toolshed?"

"I see four bodies still on the floor. There's... fuck dude there's blood _everywhere_." It was no doubt that Toolshed was a bit distressed by the sight. The tone of his voice was disturbed, and not without reason.

"See anyone we recognize?" Mysterion asked grimly.

"Umm... just one. Terrence Mephesto. He's the one with the knife."

Mysterion audibly exhaled. "Fuck. Okay, so that's nine bodies. Can anyone see how many are inside the vans?"

"I can," the Mole said, and slipped off to the side. He produced a pair of binoculars from god knows where and was silent for several long seconds. "I count two in zee first van, s'ree in zee second."

"So that's... a total of fourteen people."

The strangeness of it was not lost on them.

"Toolshed, get some pictures and get out of there, we need to head back to base and see what we can sort out."

"Got it."

_-x-0-x-_

By the time they'd gotten back to base, it was well after midnight. They all changed into more comfortable clothes and sat in the meeting room, where Ike had put up the several dozen pictures Toolshed had snapped with his TAC pad up on the various monitor screens. Wendy had gone up to ensure that Henrietta ate something and recently returned. Kenny, Stan, Kyle, and Token were laying out information and writing it across the whiteboards that dotted the room. Clyde, Cartman, Christophe and Timmy had set to work coming up with a cover story for all of them so they could continue to work without having to go home. The word was that they were going to a sleepover at Token's house, which his parents were covering for him. They knew full-well about his superhero identity, since they'd commissioned his suit of armor, and because they were so proud of their son for what he did, they helped out wherever they could with League activities.

"Alright, let's see what we're working with," Kenny said wearily. "Two incidents. The cops are trying to say they're unrelated, but there's too many similarities."

"The fourteen bodies is a pretty clear indicator," Stan said.

"And the use of a knife," Kyle added.

"So, it's safe to assume we have one individual doing the killing, and 13 victims. Sound about right?" Kenny asked to the table.

"They're almost a month apart," Wendy put forward. "Think there's any significance in that?"

"I won't rule it out," Kenny replied. He'd tried very hard to avoid looking at the gruesome pictures that covered the monitors until he needed to. It was just a little too much to deal with right that very moment. "So let's say we have an incident once a month. That brings up a whole fucking host of questions."

"Maybe we should write those questions down and see where they lead?" Token suggested.

"That's a good idea. Okay, so questions, all of them. We'll write them all down and see if we can make any connections from any of this torrent of shit."

"What is the significance of the thirteen deaths?" Clyde asked. Ike wrote it down as he spoke.

"How is the asshole in the white suit related?" Cartman grumbled.

"Why are the cops trying to keep us away from the murder scenes?" Token put forward.

"What do Chaos and Disarray have to do with the incidents?" Kyle pondered slowly.

Wendy picked up on his train of thought. "What about the book? How is it related, if at all?"

"'Ow is zee cult related and what is wrong wis' zee girl upstairs," Christophe added thoughtfully.

Kenny mulled it over in his head. "Why did Heidi, Henrietta and Terrance all appear to be brainwashed, but Cartman just sorta went nuts for a little while?"

Stan looked uneasy. "Yeah dude, that's messed up. Oh, that brings up the question of the knife. What the fuck is it and where the fuck did it come from?"

"Alright we have a good start going. We should go over the crime scene and then get some research done," Ike said without shifting his eyes from the laptop screen.

"Okay, so what do we have," Kenny said slowly as he turned to face the monitors. The grisly display of carnage made his stomach turn a little. He'd been stabbed, cut up, dismembered dozens of times, but seeing these people... it was different. They wouldn't come back from their untimely demises. They wouldn't be able to think back on what happened like he could. They weren't people anymore. They were just empty corpses.

The scene itself was unsettling, especially for the others. He didn't know how Toolshed had been able to take the pictures without vomiting. Blood practically painted the walls. Right in the middle of the floor lay Terrance Mephesto, a boy they'd had a rivalry with briefly as children. The son of South Park's resident mad scientist Dr. Alphonse Mephesto, Terrance had been following along in his father's footsteps, albeit much farther under the radar. He'd been in a few of Kenny's science and math classes since beginning high school, but had avoided talking to the boys for whatever reason. Now he was there in the middle of a blood-soaked KFC, lifeless and drenched in the blood of thirteen innocent people.

"I guess this is what happens when we're not there to interfere," Kyle said grimly. He was a little pale from the effort of keeping the horror from his voice.

Kenny inhaled slowly. "Okay, so let's look at what we've got."

"Look at the menu board above the counter," Wendy said slowly. Her eyes were squinted and she was staring intently at what appeared to be an inky black square on the board. "What the hell is that?"

Stan looked a little nervous. "I swear to god, I didn't see that when I was taking the pictures."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that there's no way that should be there, it wasn't there when I was taking those photos. I know I would have seen a big black square of empty space."

Silence fell over the group momentarily as they exchanged disturbed glances. "It's like what happened with Heidi at the mall," Kyle mumbled.

"I don't like this," Wendy whispered. "With Heidi we thought we'd stopped the body count at thirteen. But there were more than thirteen people in that KFC and Terrance only killed that many before ending it himself. It... makes a scary kind of sense."

Stan glanced sideways at his girlfriend, an eyebrow arched. Kenny watched the silent exchange between them curiously. "Share with the class?" he said after a few moments.

"Well think about it like this. She stabbed herself once Mysterion showed up, but first she made a pretty obvious display of going after Jess and Kal. She'd bypassed them at least three times during the fight before that. I don't think she ever intended to kill them at all."

Curious eyes all turned on Wendy. She made a motion towards the table, and they all sat around it once more. Once situated, Clyde asked, "Okay, so... you think she did it just because Mysterion showed up?"

"I think she did it because she wanted Mysterion involved. She kept running us around for a good fifteen minutes before he made it. Right before she died, she tried to warn him. Not any of us, just _him._ And she was trying very hard to drop hints that she _thought_ only he would understand. So if that's the case, that means that on some level she was aware of what was going on."

Kenny rubbed his forehead. Was that possible? Could the poor people who were suffering under the force of brainwashing be trapped, forced to watch inside their own bodies as they committed murder after brutal murder, knowing that each death brought them closer to their own demise? It seemed like a hellish fate, one that Kenny had no intention of allowing to continue.

"That's fucked up," Cartman said at last, voicing what was evident on many of their faces. Not a trace of sarcasm in his voice. His eyes were wide, obviously disturbed; he was probably entrenched in his own gruesome memories of those... _voices _ or whatever they were screaming in his head, fully aware but unable to act of his own accord. The one difference between him and those other poor souls was that Cartman had come out of it. He had breached the barrier of psychosis and come out mostly unscathed. If nothing else, it gave Kenny hope that maybe there was a way to stop the others before it was too late.

_-x-0-x-_

Dawn came much earlier than anticipated. By the time Kenny began to rouse from his troubled sleep, Kyle was already awake. He had ventured out in the darkness before the sun rose to bring back coffee, which Kenny accepted gratefully as his friend descended the stairs into the meeting room. While the others had all gone off to sleep in the small hours of the morning one by one, finally giving in to their bodies' desperation for rest, Kenny had not, and had instead spent the entire night in the meeting room, poring over clues, documents, video feed, anything that might give him some slight inkling, some direction to follow that would lead him to the culprit. He came up mostly empty-handed.

"Dude, did you even sleep?" Kyle asked as he set the trays of coffee cups on the table. Kenny yawned widely.

"Yeah, I ended up passing out at the table."

Kyle's face furrowed with concern. "Seriously, you have to sleep. If we get caught in a fight-"

"I know, I know. I'll make sure to catch an extra few hours tonight, alright? Don't worry about it. 'Sides, you brought coffee." Kenny grinned widely, and though Kyle rolled his eyes, he didn't pursue the subject further, instead opting to take his seat and glance over the notes Kenny had taken during the night. After a few moments of silence, Kyle returned the notes to the table and glanced up.

"It's a little crazy, all the stuff that's going on. The thing with Wendy though... It's kinda hard to believe..." Kyle said, trailing off for a moment, a pensive look falling over his face. "So... do you think Wendy... do you think it's a good idea for her to use that new... I dunno, vision she's got?"

Kenny pondered the question, eyes fixed on the table. How did he answer a question like that? It wasn't exactly a straight-forward answer. For one thing, he had seen more crazy shit than anyone ever, so the possibility of Wendy's strange development wasn't outside the realm of possibility. And more than anything else, when she said she could see the shadows, he believed her. There was no need to second guess her. Wendy wasn't into lying, Kenny knew. Stan had told him the entire story about Wendy trying to expose her friends in the fourth grade for faking a list in order to help Kyle's suffering self-esteem. So yeah, Kenny believed her.

Apparently, Kyle did as well, though his reasons he kept to himself. Kenny couldn't help but notice that since the Heidi incident, Kyle had been a little shaky. Whether or not it was because he had witnessed a death he hadn't forgotten immediately after or if it was something else entirely he had no idea, but Kenny knew that whenever Kyle decided to discuss it, he would come to Stan and Kenny first.

"Well yeah," Kenny said at last, suddenly aware that his inner monologue had left the pair in awkward silence. "Considering everything else, I say there's no reason not to. I mean think about it, she can spot people with the brainwashing before anything even happens. We can prevent more deaths, so I don't see a problem with it."

"Oh I know it's useful as fuck, but that's not what I'm asking. I mean... what if they find out? Whoever the fuck is behind this, she could end up a massive target. I know that's the least of our concerns with everything else going on... I dunno. Just a bad feeling I guess."

Kenny nodded. "I know what you mean, it's like something stale is like... clinging to the air or something." He shrugged.

Their discussion was interrupted as a few seconds later, the loud, shrill cry of an alarm sounding echoed through the meeting room and likely the entire base. Were they any closer to town, Kenny might have feared that someone could gear the obnoxious shrieking wail that sounded from the monitoring station. He stood from his chair and crossed the room, peering at the flashing words that displayed on the station's screen.

"Robbery downtown," he read off. Kyle got to his feet and nodded.

"Nice change of pace. We should get suited up."

Kenny nodded, tapped a few keys to shut off the alarm, and trotted up after Kyle up the stairs. As they arrived in the barracks, Kenny placed his index and middle fingers between his lips and whistled loudly.

The room, which had been silent and peaceful when they'd arrived, flew into a buzz of activity. Cartman shot straight upright in his bunk, but had misjudged the distance between himself and the bunk above him, which ended with him nailing his head against the bottom of it and rolling off the bunk, howling in pain. Clyde occupied the bunk above his, and after rousing enough to be able to focus on what was going on, went into a fit of laughter.

"S'not funny, asshole!" Cartman snapped through his hands.

"What's going on?" Token asked groggily from a nearby bunk.

"Robbery downtown, suit up," Kenny replied.

"Why can't criminals have the decency to wait until operating hours to commit crimes," Stan griped as he flung off his blanket, stretched and got to his feet. There wasn't time for showers, so they instead went straight to gearing up. Kenny crossed to his own wardrobe, threw it open and stripped down out of his t-shirt and jeans. As was standard, he was dressed before everyone else, and set to work securing his cape.

"What's the details?" Sentinel said after a wide yawn. He was still pulling on his suit and fumbling for his mask.

"One of the boutiques downtown. The owner has us wired into their security system, someone tripped the silent alarm," Kyle replied as he attempted to pull his flight hood over his tangled mass of red hair.

"Let's get moving before the thief gets away," Kenny said, Mysterion's voice leaving his throat. Something about this didn't sit well with him, and he was about to find out why.

_-x-0-x-_

Moving at a quick jog, the League had made it down the path and into downtown in only minutes. They traveled silently along the streets, barely visible in the pre-dawn light. They didn't have to travel far. The boutique, owned by the Turner family, was right on Main Street. As they approached though, something was very clearly out of place.

There were no noises or lights, but they could easily tell which building had been broken into. The front window was completely shattered, with only small pieces left hanging from the window frame. Mysterion dropped to almost a crouch, holding up a hand to signal the others to stop while he approached. Sentinel's voice crackled to life in his ear.

"One target, alone. Looks like - is that a fucking _motorcycle__?"_

__Mysterion peered in through the broken window. Sure enough, laying unceremoniously in the middle of the store was a motorcycle. It hadn't been laid down gently. The damn thing had been _hurled _ through the window.

Whatever happened to just using a brick?

A heartbeat later, he caught sight of the criminal in question, who was creeping from the back room.

"Who the fuck is that?" Mysterion growled. The thief in question, female by the looks of her, was slipping silently through the store. She was dressed in a tight red catsuit with heeled red boots and matching red gloves. Her hair was candy-apple red and she wore it in a bob, and the top part of her face was obscured by a mask that covered her eyes and nose, leaving only her mouth visible.

She hadn't noticed them quite yet, so Mysterion set to work giving wordless orders with his hands.

_StrikeForce catch her from behind. Toolshed and Kite, get in from the roof. Coon, Mole, Biotic and Mosquito, get ready to catch her when she runs._

They all set to move into positions.

Then police sirens sounded. The thief inside the boutique turned suddenly, spotting the Coon and the Mole through the shattered front window. Mysterion slapped his palm to his forehead.

"What the fuck is wrong with the mother fucking cops," he groaned. "New plan, keep her subdued, let's catch her and get her locked down before Yates has a chance to fuck it up." The thief through the window had started sprinting towards the back door. The team leaped into action. Mysterion scaled the building and sprinted across the roof, leaping down into the street to head her off. "Hold it!" he barked. She skidded to a halt and turned on her heel, sprinting back into the building. She leaped over the motorcycle and through the broken window, coming face to face with StrikeForce.

The mystery thief ducked to the side, trying to slip away from both Toolshed and Human Kite, who had almost quite literally dropped out of the sky to head her off. Once again she slid to a halt, turning to observe the growing crowd of heroes around her. She was caught.

But she didn't appear the slightest bit concerned. "So the mighty League of Heroes has come to put a stop to me," she said. Mysterion narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you, exactly?" he asked her warily.

"You can call me Torrid."

"The fuck kind of name is that?" the Coon asked, arms folded incredulously.

"On account of I'm so hot," she replied flippantly. Torrid turned, seeming to assess her competition. Her eyes fell on StrikeForce, and a smirk crossed her red-painted lips. Without another word she launched herself, kicking off from the ground and tackling StrikeForce with the full weight of her body. The two women went flying to the ground, where StrikeForce kicked up hard and knocked the thief away.

"What the hell!?" she snarled, pushing herself back up onto her feet. "Torrid, just give up. You're caught."

But Torrid had no intention of giving up. She sprinted back towards StrikeForce, winding up her fist as she went. StrikeForce leaned to the right, the punch sailing over her right shoulder. Torrid's fist embedded into the brick of the shop, cracking the wall. Wide eyes turned.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Toolshed spat, surging forward. Torrid ducked, sweeping low under his attempt to grapple her and attempted, once again, to assault StrikeForce. The pair traded strikes, though few were more than glancing blows.

StrikeForce missed a dodge, and Torrid's fist smashed hard into the girl hero's ribs. She stumbled, the air having left her chest.

Torrid moved in for another blow... and then froze. The thief began to scream, holding her head, reeling back.

"NO!" she shrieked. "NO GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

The thief stumbled slightly, her eyes flashing. Mysterion was close enough to see the spectacle before him, but not so close as StrikeForce, whose eyes were wide as dinner plates at the girl's sudden and mysterious breakdown, however short it was. Torrid shook it off and sprinted into the street, the League members in tow, then stopped beside a parked car.

"Don't follow me," she snapped. The next few moments were some of the strangest that some of them had witnessed from a human being, as she turned, _lifted_ the car over her head and proceeded to _hurl _it at them. They scrambled to move out of the way of the oncoming, airborne vehicle and by the time they'd recovered themselves, she had vanished.

"God fucking damn it," Mysterion growled as he brushed himself off. Today had started out to be a fantastically shitty day, and it wasn't even noon yet. Hell, it wasn't even _dawn_ yet. He sighed heavily and turned, just as the cops appeared at the scene, too late as usual. "Here we go," he groaned, his fellow heroes moving to stand around him. Yates closed the distance between them and his car quickly, his face clearly unhappy.

"Something wrong, Detective?" Toolshed asked flippantly.

"Damn right something's wrong!" the ginger detective snapped back. "You think it's alright to cause this big a scene downtown?"

"Not really, but you know, I don't think Miss Torrid would have cared all too much, considering she threw a fucking car at us," Kite said acerbically.

Yates shot him a glare. "Excuse me?"

"Late again, Detective. Your record lately isn't improving for crime response," Biotic said, almost flatly, though Mysterion could just imagine the ironic smirk behind that mask.

Before Yates had a chance to bellow his reply at the armored hero, Mysterion interjected.

"Are you here to actually do your job today or are you just going to let 'the kids' handle it?"

"We do our jobs, and I don't like that attitude of yours, Mysterion," Yates spat.

Mysterion laughed acidly. "Yeah, of course."

"So what happened here?" Yates grumbled.

StrikeForce spoke up. She was still holding her side, but she seemed to be able to breathe again. "New costumed thief, calls herself Torrid. She apparently possesses super-human strength, as her point of entry was through the front window by throwing a motorcycle through it. She left through the same window, picked up a car and tossed it at us to make her escape."

Yates' mouth hung slightly agape. "Threw a car?"

"She wasn't exactly a friendly burglar. She doesn't seem to be connected with any of the other incidents."

"Well, she hasn't been mentioned by McElroy at... erm..."

Mysterion blinked several times. "Finish that sentence," he said flatly, eyes narrowed.

"I er... it was nothing. No one."

"McElroy? As in, _Jim_ McElroy? The leader of the South Park Cthulhu Cult chapter, _Jim McElroy_?"

"No, it must be a different-"

"Yates you piece of shit!" Mysterion barked. "You've been in fucking _contact_ with those assholes and you've NEGLECTED TO MENTION THIS?"

"Now just one minute Myst-"

"No, you start talking right fucking now. Just how long has the fucking Cult been in your ear? I'd say it's pretty clear you've been bought off."

"Are you accusing me of being a dirty cop?" Yates snapped back.

"Accusing? No I'm not accusing, that would imply I have no proof. You ARE a fucking DIRTY COP."

The color of Yates' face purpled again. He opened his mouth to bellow a reply, but someone behind him cleared his throat, and he went silent. The League all turned their eyes up to see none other than the tall man in white appear at the scene, wearing his usual crisp white attire. He strode to stand beside Yates, bent down to whisper something in the man's ear, and then stood once more to his full measure.

"Well you kids did good, keep up the good work. We'll take it from here," Yates said in a voice that was almost dreamy.

"Excuse me? The fuck you will," Mysterion spat.

"You kids are not cops. You're not law enforcement. You're kids, so the police will handle this."

Mysterion felt the firm grips of Toolshed and the Mole on his left and right arms. "You mother fucker!"

"I'd hate to have to do this to you but if you keep interfering, you'll leave me no choice but to put all of you on the wanted list. I don't want to have to, but I will issue warrants for your arrest." Without another word he turned, strode to his car, stepped in and pulled away from the scene.

"YOU PIECE OF SHIT GET BACK HERE!" Mysterion bellowed, jerking against his two teammates that held him fast.

"Mysterion calm down, we can work without him," Toolshed said in his calming voice. "Let's just head back to base, we'll handle it out without the cops."

"Mysterion?" a voice called from across the street. The League members turned their eyes up and looked on curiously as Yates' usual partner, Murphy, jogged over to them.

"What do you want?" Mysterion growled.

"I want to help," the man said in a hushed voice. It was clear that he had been ordered otherwise, as Murphy kept glancing warily over his shoulder. When he thought it was safe, he lowered his voice and said, "Take this. It'll help." He shoved something into Mysterion's hand, nodded to them all, and then returned to where the other cops pored over the strangeness of the crime scene.

Mysterion watched on, quite unsure what had just happened, but feeling as though maybe, for once, something might have happened in their favor.

* * *

_Author's Notes: So sorry for the delay in updating. I don't want to have an obscenely long closing notes section, so suffice it to say that I've been having technical difficulties. My computer was giving me quite a bit of trouble, and after it ate and destroyed this chapter 4 separate times, I decided to take a short break to get things fixed. In the process I've been tweaking and playing around with the story line to make it as epic as I possibly can, so I suppose it may have been a good thing._

_Anyway! So a few notes about this chapter. Torrid is going to be a major element later on. I really enjoy writing for her. I'm not going to give anything away about her, except one little hint: she is someone you know. _

_Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, there's more to come soon! Thanks for sticking with me this far, and it will keep getting better from here._


End file.
